Halloween Unspectacular 7: Watchmeh
by E350
Summary: Thirty-one days, thirty-one shots, thirty-one minutes ago, Halloween Unspectacular returns despite your best efforts! Be afraid (or don't) and prepare yourself for the next evolution of the same thing you've seen every year! Ratings, pairings and genres may vary wildly, read with discretion. Requests will be considered.
1. 01 10 17: Oh No Not Again

Well, here we go again!

* * *

 **01/10/17: Oh No Not Again**

The Man in Black walked through the ground floor of the Queen Victoria Building. The clicking of his shoes echoed in the great, spacious, Romanesque building. It was late at night, and he had a rendezvous to make.

He met the other figure, clad in a trench coat to protect from the cold, at about the centre of the building. They nodded - the Man in Black presented a briefcase.

"Here it is," he said, "Your payment."

The trench coated fellow peeked inside the briefcase and nodded stoically.

"Very well," he said, "The project goes ahead for another year. Give the imps my regards."

The two turned and walked off into the night.

* * *

"There we go," I said, putting the briefcase on the shelf, "They paid the price."

"The price?" asked Danny, standing in the doorway, "You made them pay you?"

"Yep," I nodded, hanging up the trench coat which I had worn for dramatic effect, "They paid me with the full collection of Rick and Morty Funko Pops."

"...you're an idiot," sighed Danny.

"Maybe, but it was worth it," I nodded, "Let's get this show on the road."

I stepped briskly out the door and to the front porch of my house, where a makeshift wooden counter had been set up. I turned a hanging sign from 'Closed' to 'Open' as cheery music began to play. I began to sing.

 _Who can take the franchise?  
Twist up a bit?  
Write a tale with gusto  
even though he's full of-_

A car horn beeped loudly.

 _The Fanfic Man!  
Yes, the Fanfic Man can!_

Slowly but surely, people began to approach the stand, although nervous looking fellow seemed to be pondering whether or not to call the police.

 _The Fanfic Man can 'cause  
he mixes schlock with art  
And makes Dan Brown look good._

As I began to hand printed fanfics to the people outside, Danny and Timmy emerged from the house, taking up the song themselves.

 _Who can take a idea?  
Write it in a rush?  
Mix his thoughts together in an unappealing mush?  
The Fanfic Man!  
Yes, the Fanfic Man can!_

I stepped back up, joining back into the song.

 _The Fanfic Man can 'cause  
he mixes schlock with art  
And makes Snyder look good._

Meanwhile, Plankton had climbed onto the counter. He looked in confusion at what was going on, shrugged, and took up the next verse.

 _The Fanfic Man writes  
Endless piles of tripe  
Mediocre and valueless  
Mercenary and horrendous  
The moron thinks it's all tremendous!_

I was now standing on the counter, throwing fanfic pages into the crowd with no regard for the possibility of paper cuts. Timmy and Danny took the song up, now joined by Mabel.

 _Who has too much free time?  
No attention span?  
Who can spend the whole day  
viewing fanart from Japan?  
The Fanfic Man!  
Yes, the Fanfic Man can!_

 _The Fanfic Man can 'cause  
he mixes schlock with art  
And makes Ayn Rand look good._

Pearl watched from the pavement. She shook her head and crossed her arms as she sung the next verse.

 _The Fanfic Man writes  
Endless piles of tripe  
Mediocre and valueless  
Mercenary and horrendous  
The moron thinks it's all tremendous!_

"Everybody!" I yelled, extending my arms.

 _Who can take a idea?  
Write it in a rush?  
Mix his thoughts together in an unappealing mush?  
The Fanfic Man!  
Yes, the Fanfic Man can!_

 _The Fanfic Man can 'cause  
he mixes schlock with art  
And makes The Host look good._

 _The Fanfic Man can 'cause  
he mixes schlock with art  
And makes Ed Wood look good._

 _Fanfic man, fanfic man, fanfic man!  
(Makes George Lucas look good.)_

 _Fanfic man, fanfic man, fanfic man!  
(Makes Tim Kring look good.)_

"Actually, now that I think about it," I said, scratching my chin, "That song was actually pretty harsh."

I thought it over for a moment and shrugged.

"Ah well, doesn't matter."

There was a moment of silence.

"All you people get off my lawn."

* * *

AN: No contest this year, because it doesn't work most of the time. Sorry.


	2. 02 10 17: Robot Wars

Time to start off on a high note with what I would term an aggressively stupid story.

* * *

 **02/10/17: Robot Wars**

 _Roughly three to five years from now. Give or take. AD._

A giant, dinosaur-shaped robot was advancing through the harbour towards Sydney's central business district. This was definitely unexpected - usually this sort of thing only happened in Tokyo - but a defence was being prepared.

The small aircraft carrier (or as the Navy called it, a 'Landing Helicopter Dock', as if helicopters had magically stopped being aircraft) HMAS _Adelaide_ sat offshore, the crew assembled on the flight deck. The commander, Admiral Stereotype, chomped on a cigar as he briefed his crew.

"Gentlemen!" he explained, "As you know, Mecha-Godragontron approaches the city of Sydney! This is the day we've all been waiting for!"

He paced the deck, now in full speech-mode.

"When I first came up with the Fight Robots With Robots Imitative, they called me _mad!_ But I persisted! I got them to spend two-thirds of the defence budget on this! And now I say, who's laughing now? _Who's laughing now?!_ "

He turned around.

"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "Behold, the future of warfare!"

Down in the hold of the ship, Stanford Pines was just finishing connecting Wendy to a series of electrical wires which ran from a massive generator. She fidgeted nervously as she watched the generator hum with electricity.

"Um, before we do this, can you run this by me one more time?" she asked.

"Of course," nodded Ford, "This machine is powered by a combination of Tiberium, Elerium, Eezo and trace amounts of Spice. Once activated, they will create a chain reaction in the machine which will reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, creating 1.21 jiggawatts of electricity which will then be directed right into your pores, which something something giant robot."

He shrugged.

"We're not one hundred percent sure of the science of the last bit."

"Hey Ford, why couldn't you just _build_ a giant robot?" asked Stan, as he, Dipper and Mabel walked over.

"Uh...this is way cooler," replied Ford.

"Ah, the Pacific Rim hypothesis," nodded Dipper.

"Quite," said Ford, "Now, Dipper, you're job here is going to be crucial. Once we've transformed Wendy into a giant robot, we're going to need you to get into her cockpit and man the weapons systems."

"Uh...I'm not even eighteen yet," reminded Dipper, "Are you sure you don't have a professional military pilot who can..."

"Just get in the funkin' robot, Dipper," grunted Ford.

"Yes, Great Uncle Ford."

"Well, no time like the present!" said Ford, "Igor! Pull the lever."

"You call me Igor one more time, Ford, and I swear..."

Stan pulled the lever on the generator.

Green electricity (which, as we all know, is the most potent kind of electricity) flowed through the cables into Wendy's body. She was washed in light, as though she was doing a sort of magical girl transformation, except into a giant robot.

Her body grew in size as her clothes turned into a suit of green-painted titanium armour. Beneath this, her skin was transfigured into a form of nanofibre, clearly synthetic in texture and incredibly durable but allowing the flexibility of human skin - so too did her hair, which retained the basic physical properties of hair but became much more durable (exactly why this was needed was anybody's guess). Her irises took on a brilliant green glow. She felt her power increase as her brain and insides turned to software and hardware - she smirked.

With a thunderous crash, she burst through the flight deck of the _Adelaide_ , destroying three parked helicopters in the process. She stepped forward, easily standing in the waters of Sydney Harbour - when she finished growing, she stood at about two hundred metres tall.

She looked at her hands and grinned.

"Aw man," she said, a slight metallic edge to her voice, "This feels _cool_."

She turned around and held her hand towards the hole in the _Adelaide_. A small door opened up on the tip of her index finger - Dipper swallowed and nervously climbed inside. Mabel smiled and waved.

"Well, off to save the world," she said, "Be right back!"

She turned and ran for the city.

"Go, robot," said Admiral Stereotype, standing stoically on the flight deck, "Save our city!"

"Oh my god, we just wrote off an aircraft carrier!" an officer exclaimed in utter horror.

" _Landing Helicopter Dock,_ Lieutenant," replied the Admiral, "It's a _Landing Helicopter Dock_."

* * *

" _...I'm Kent Brockman reporting live from Sydney where a giant mechanical lizard is causing destruction and chaos!_ "

"Pearl! Pearl!"

Pearl looked up from her folding as Steven, Connie and Amethyst raced up to her, pointing excitedly at the television.

"Pearl, there's a giant robot attacking Australia!" exclaimed Steven.

"We've gotta do something to help!" added Connie.

"I wanna fight a giant robot, P!" said Amethyst.

Pearl looked quizzically at the TV.

" _...so far the destruction seems to have been limited to banks and retail south of Town Hall, but the monster appears to be changing directions and heading on a direct trajectory for Darling Harbour_."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "I'm sure the humans have it handled..."

Steven, Connie and Amethyst all looked at Pearl with pleading expressions.

"...oh, _alright_ ," she sighed, "Give me five minutes to make a giant robot."

" _Yaaaaay!_ "

The group headed over to the warp pad, leaving the TV behind.

" _So, who is responsible for this crisis. In this reporter's opinion, frankly, it must be the poor..._ "

* * *

Mecha-Godragontron marched through the buildings of central Sydney, bound for Darling Harbour. With a thunderous roar, he stepped on the Dymocks Building. His tail smashed open the front of the Westfield Shopping Centre. His fiery breath had already destroyed much of Barangaroo. It was tragic to see such world-renowned landmarks felled.

And now he was headed for the harbour and the greatest landmark Sydney had to offer - the National Maritime Museum.

He was nearly there, with one foot crushing Wildlife World and the other severing the Pyrmont Bridge in twain, when he heard a cry.

"Hey, Discount Godzilla!"

Mecha-Godragontron turned. Wendy was standing behind him, a determined look on her face. Several very large missile pods had emerged from her shoulders.

"Pick on someone your own size!" she shouted.

Inside her head, Dipper was sitting in a high-tech cockpit, desperately trying to work out what all the buttons did. He was sweating like a pig.

"Oh no, this is bad," he muttered to himself, "Uh...I'll just press this button and..."

The missiles fired from their pods. Mecha-Godragontron ducked, and they soared into the International Convention Centre, levelling the building.

"Sorry!" gulped Dipper.

"It's cool, dude, just try to keep him distracted," nodded Wendy, "Oh, and hang on."

She ran forward, punching Mecha-Godragontron straight in the face. He fell backwards, smashing into the Harbourside Shopping Centre. He quickly climbed out of the ruins and charged Wendy, tackling her back over the harbour and into the city.

They landed hard, Wendy's head slamming into Town Hall. She rolled out of the way of Mecha-Godragontron's finishing stomp and leapt to her feet, swiftly extending her arm. Dipper frantically pressed a button, and a pulse of energy blasted straight into Mecha-Godragontron's face, sending him skidding backwards and wrecking what was left of Town Hall.

The underground station there had been exposed by the fighting, and a train was now visible to the fighting robots. Mecha-Godragontron reached down, grabbing the train and picking it up.

Inside a carriage, the only passenger who hadn't evacuated looked out the window.

"Oh no," said Hans Moleman, "Not this again."

Mecha-Godragontron flung the train like a whip, slamming it twice into Wendy's face. On the third time, she grabbed it, tearing it out of his hands and throwing it off into the horizon.

"Alright, he's harder than I thought he'd be," she nodded, "If I still had lungs I'd be pretty winded right now."

She paused.

"Wait, Dipper, did Ford say he could reverse this?"

"I... _think so?_ " said Dipper, very uncertainly.

* * *

 _"...this is Arnie Pie! We're flying over the centre of Sydney, and it looks like utter destruction from here, Kent! We have two giant robots making a mess of all of Sydney's greatest landmarks! It's an utter travesty!"_

 _"Yeah, okay Arnie, and how are the traffic conditions?"_

 _"There are giant robots, Kent!_ Giant robots! _"_

 _"Please, Arnie, reporting on that is my job."_

 _"Oh! Okay!_ Fine! _Traffic is backed up as far as the eye can see on account of the_ **GIANT ROBOTS FIGHTING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY!** _Is that good enough, Kent? Is that good enough?"_

"Hey Danny, should we be doing something?"

Danny, Sam and Tucker were watching the news in the Fenton's living room. Danny winced and shrugged.

"Y'know, I'm more about dealing with _ghosts_ than giant robots, guys," he said, "I think I'll sit this one out."

"Gotta know when to fold 'em," nodded Sam.

"Australia is so far away anyway and I'm tired," added Tucker.

* * *

Wendy was backed up against a wall, figuratively speaking. Literally speaking she was backed up against Central Station, with Mecha-Godragontron slowly advancing towards her.

"Wendy, this is bad!" exclaimed Dipper, "We've lost all the weapons systems I can use, and I think the rest are locked behind achievements!"

"We're not gonna give up, dude," growled Wendy, "This city is counting on us."

"Well, we've _kinda_ destroyed most of it," replied Dipper.

"We're not done, Mecha-Godragontron," snarled Wendy, "You're not gonna destroy Sydney while I'm still...well, not _breathing_. Online?"

"So be it," replied Mecha-Godragontron.

"Wait, did you just _talk?_ " exclaimed Wendy.

"He could talk this whole time?" said Dipper.

"Um...no," replied Mecha-Godragontron, "Uh...um...roar. Roar."

"Oh my...you're just trying to look cool!" Wendy realised, "The monument destruction, the big fight, the one-liner - you just want to look good in front of all those news helicopters."

"...it's the only way I can think of to get Mothravoltron Prime to notice me," said Mecha-Godragontron, sounding embarrassed.

"Wow," said Dipper, gobsmacked, "That's... _wow_."

" _Hold it right there, fiend!_ "

Wendy and Mecha-Godragontron watched as a third giant robot landed (right on top of the Meriton Hotel). It was spherical in shape, with long arms, pincers and a single wheel supporting its weight. It was coloured blue and white, with splashes of yellow and pink. The words 'Ultra Pearl-bot' were emblazoned on the front.

Inside the cockpit of the Ultra Pearl-bot, Pearl was sitting in a traditional looking captain's chair, wearing her space jumpsuit. She was flanked on both sides by Amethyst and Stevonnie on consoles (Steven and Connie could have remained unfused, but that would have broken the symmetry).

"I am Pearl!" Pearl bellowed into the robot's speaker system, "And you are invading our planet."

"What in the name of..." whispered Wendy.

"Now, face our wrath!" exclaimed Pearl, "Stevonnie, is the weapon ready?"

"Ready and armed, ma'am!" replied Stevonnie, turning a key on their console.

"Alright, Amethyst, do the honours," nodded Pearl.

"Ah yeah, this is gonna be _sweet_ ," said Amethyst, grinning as she pounded her fist onto a big red button.

"Mecha-Godragontron!" thundered Pearl, "Prepare for the _Pearl Beam!_ "

The Ultra Pearl-bot raised its arms, and they merged into a massive cannon. It began to charge a blue beam.

"Oh...um...in retrospect, I think I can find other ways to attract Moth..."

" _FIRE!_ "

The beam shot from the cannon, hitting Mecha-Godragontron square in the chest. Somewhere down below, a shop speaker began to play.

 _Mmm whatcha saaaaaay  
Mmm that you only meant well  
Well of course you did_

He flew through the sky above the ruins of Sydney, as if in slow motion. His arms spread out dramatically.

 _Mmm whatcha saaaaaay  
Mmm that it's all for the beeeest  
of course it is_

As he approached Circular Quay, he began to fall. A single tear of oil fell from his eye.

 _Mmm whatcha saaaaaay  
Mmm that you only meant well  
Well of course you did_

With a mournful crunching sound, he landed gracefully on top of the Opera House, lifeless mechanical eyes gazing at the sun.

 _Mmm whatcha saaaaaay  
What did she saaaaaaay_

"Well," said Wendy, "That was dramatic."

There was a long silence.

"We saved the city!" exclaimed Stevonnie.

"We kicked Mecha-Godragontron's butt!" added Wendy.

"I didn't die!" cheered Dipper.

Wendy and the Ultra Pearl-bot began to do a victory dance in the ruins of the saved city. The news copters circles around them in wonder, while not far away, ASIO quietly began to secure Mecha-Godragontron's remains for weapons development purposes.

* * *

And so, our tale ends.

Admiral Stereotype presented the results of his project to the Prime Minister. He was swiftly fired and even more swiftly court-martialled, but won his freedom by blackmailing all the defence chiefs.

Ford Pines had not actually worked out a way to reverse his giant robot process, and thought the idea of unrobotisiser to be as ludicrous as a rebigulator. He was forgiven, because objectively speaking he had made worse mistakes.

Kent Brockman and Arnie Pie settled their differences with a fight to the death.

Stan later bought a cola from the _Adelaide_ 's vending machine.

The Ultra Pearl-bot was retired and sent to the barn, where it used by Peridot and Lapis to accidentally destroy Cleveland. Nobody noticed for many years.

Danny Fenton didn't do much in this story.

Mecha-Godragontron's body was buried in a closed-casket ceremony at the Woomera Test Range, but his head had gone missing. It is believed to have been stolen by his old university and buried in an unmarked spot on its grounds. The author erroneously believed that people would get this Oliver Cromwell joke.

Pearl, Amethyst and Stevonnie were awarded medals by the New South Wales Government. Steven and Connie would cut theirs in half to share.

Wendy left Earth to live on the moon, partially to avoid accidentally destroying monuments and partially because living on the moon is awesome. She now lives there with Dipper, Mabel and Soos, who joined in her lunar exile to keep her company. Despite the massive distance between the Earth and the Moon, they are still able to get Netflix.

No Sydneysiders, aircraft carriers or robots were harmed during the making of this story.

* * *

AN: I haven't destroyed Sydney in a story in too long. Let me have this.


	3. 03 10 17: Guests of the Marblehead

I tried to go a little David Lynch here.

* * *

 **03/10/17: Guests of the Marblehead**

There's a little hotel a short ways down the road from...well, the town's not really important. They call it the Marblehead Resort. It's a nice hotel - hardly the Ritz, but if you're looking for the Ritz in the middle of nowhere, you're looking in the wrong place. It was opened on Halloween night in 1926 - Harry Houdini attended the opening party, which is about its only major claim to fame.

There's always familiar faces to see at the Marblehead - people you come to recognise if you go there enough. Perhaps you'd like to hear of them? Most of them are certainly characters, let me tell you.

Alright, so first you've got the girl at the reception desk, which is typical of any hotel. That would be Wendy, a teenager who works here to make a guinea on the side. I think she's fifteen. She keeps all the essentials on the desk, from the guestbook to the silver-lined axe. Her wall is personalised with a few mementos, like of the time she went to Woodstock when she was fifteen. She has her own personal room - nobody knows where her father is, but she something once about a place called Bastogne, where he shipped off to when she was just fifteen. She's hard to warm up to, but when you get her trust, you've got a loyal friend for life, trust me.

There's not a lot of rooms on the ground floor, most of that's used for storage or other administration functions, but there is one room down there on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. The hotel recommends you don't book that one on Friday, as they have trouble finding it on Saturday and guests who were staying in it when that happens generally don't get found again. A few times they've had new guests come out of the room on Wednesday morning, but they don't raise much of a fuss and generally get on their way before lunch.

Then there's the janitor. He used to be called Bart Simpson, but he lost his name in a bet, so now he's _. He's not a bad person, is _. Some have heard that he had problems with his father and that he was never able to hold a job until he came here. He's flat broke and needs money, but the hotel pays him just enough to not starve. Remember to tip _ if you see him, eh?

That leaves the Manager. He doesn't leave her office much and generally delegates their orders by letters she slips under the door. Guests aren't allowed in his office. She really likes its privacy, y'know?

But the staff is lovely and...

...I beg your pardon?

Oh. _Those_ myths.

Look, every hotel on Earth has strange urban myths surrounding it, and Marblehead is no different. Some people meet with misfortune, it's a fact of life. Marblehead is no less safe than your typical Ibis. I mean yes, strange things have happened to guests there, I'll admit that. But you know what? Sometimes planes fall out of the sky. Sometimes nuclear power plants melt down. Sometimes the werewolf gets out of the wolfsbane cage and gets into the halls. These things are _outliers_.

No, nobody has ever died at the Marblehead. I think I ought to explain these situation to you, because you seem to have the wrong idea. See, they didn't die, they just never left.

We'll start with the Pines Twins and Northwest, because that's the easiest to explain. See, they came round here a couple of years back. The Northwest girl, Pacifica, was trying to escape her parents and the twins were helping with that. The Manager took a shining to them and gave them a free room. Next morning they were gone, and management thought that was the end of it - they must've left early, right?

Three days pass. It's now Wednesday morning. _ opens the door to clean out the bottom floor room, and lo and behold, there they are. So they get sent off again. They stop off hotel property and - poof! - they vanish. Next morning they reappear in the ground floor room again. Seems the hotel liked them enough that it decided it wanted them to stick around. They gave them a room on the top floor and they've been there ever since.

What? Oh yeah, I forgot that. Seems only staff and guests can actually see or interact with them. I forget that's a thing sometimes, I apologise.

Second case, Danny Fenton and his friends. They came down on some kind of summer vacation nonsense and booked a room for the night - normal stuff, nobody thought much of it. Then one of 'em - Jazz, I believe - comes down and asks about the blank picture frames decorating the room. Wendy tells 'em it's just a decor experiment - which it was, they do that sometimes - and it all seems sorted.

Morning comes. They don't check out. Manager sends Wendy up to check, and the room's empty. But there's three picture frames, and they've suddenly got paintings in them. All in different styles - Jazz rendered in cubist style, a sort-of Rockwell-esque portrait of Tucker Foley, and Danny and Sam Manson together in this really nice Art Deco sort of thing. I dunno how to describe the last one, but I think the Manager said it reminded him of Tamara de Lempicka, whoever that is.

Strange thing is, every time someone goes in that room, the poses in the paintings are slightly different. And I know a guy who swears he's seen them in other paintings in the building and all. I can't tell you if that's true or not, but I will tell you what management told the police - they have a strict 'alive until corpse is found' policy.

Speaking of, I've got another similar story. See, they were trying to update the computer at the front desk. On the same day, this girl that Wendy knows out of work showed up - ugly stuff, she'd - Tambry, that is - had been through a nasty breakup and didn't want to go home. Wendy let her stay in her room for the night.

Anyway, the staff gave up on upgrading the PC for the day and turned in, but it seems Wendy forgot to turn it off. Next morning, she finds out she's alone in her room. She comes out to the desk, and wouldn't you know it? The PC's been replaced by this space-age contraption. Really advanced stuff, mate - 50 gigs of RAM, twenty terabytes of hardware storage, all top-of-the-line, lovely purple and pink finish, and a ready-installed Tambry Operating System. It's amazing stuff, they're not going to need to upgrade that thing for a decade I reckon.

I mean, well, obviously it was a heck of a shock for Tambry, but hey? At least Wendy has somebody to talk to at work.

And moving on from that, there's this funny story about...

...seriously?

 _Seriously?_

Alright, mate, if you insist. There's an explanation for every missing person on that list, and it's entirely rational. Give it here, I'll run through it.

Okay. Timmy Turner; he's definitely alive, he exists between two to three on Tuesdays but all memory of him disappears for the rest of the week. Sandy Cheeks; asked too many questions of the Manager, so she sent her to the Sister Location. James Isaac Neutron is an urban myth; it's hotel policy that he does not exist and never has existed. Valerie Grey joined the staff and runs security; right now she's out by the pool and in the bottom floor hallway and outside the werewolf cage. Soos Ramirez is the mechanic; there's actually nothing else to add to that, they gave him a job three weeks from now. Lisa Simpson booked in for the night and will be out the door when she wakes up on Thursday the 23rd of October 2059.

Is that good? Is the witch hunt done? Are you satisfied that this is a normal hot...

...hold on...

I'm going to have to ask you to come with me. The Manager wants to see you in their office. No, no, it's nothing you've done, it just wants to see you.

Nah, trust me, you'll be fine. He's the Manager, not a dictator. She won't bite your head off.

Besides, once in a blue moon people even _leave_ his office.

Well, this is where we part ways. Oh, and if you're around, we're holding a party for Wendy on the weekend. She's fifteen, wouldn't you know?

Bye, mate - enjoy your stay.

* * *

AN: I can neither confirm or deny that the Manager eats people.


	4. 04 10 17: A-Z: The Fiftycrumb Tinies

A is for Author, my god is he lazy.

* * *

 **04/10/17: A to Z: The Fiftycrumb Tinies**

 _Written for use by preschool educators by Mr. E350._

 _With apologies to Edward Gorey._

A is for Arnold, who was lost in the trees,

B is for Bart, assailed by bees,

C is for Candy who followed the fae,

D is for Danny who was Skulker's prey,

E is for Ember whose fire went out,

F is Finn who choked on a sprout,

G is for Greg who was lured by the Beast,

H is for Homer who choked at a feast,

I is for Ice King, his sanity defeated,

J is for Jenny whose code was deleted,

K is for Karen, whose power ran dry,

L is for Lenny who got fish in his eye,

M is for Mabel who turned into stone,

N is for Nick who found out who was phone,

O is for Oscar who went to the dump,

P is for Peridot who got stuck in a stump,

Q is for _no-one_ , who cares for this letter?

R is for Rick, who should have known better,

S is for Sandy whose helmet was cracked,

T is for Tucker, who Technus attacked,

U is for Umbridge, they sucked out her soul,

V is for Vicky who lost all control,

W is for Wendy who was taken by Bill,

X is for Xanflorp, still on his treadmill,

Y is for Youngblood whose ship hit a reef,

Z is for Zircon who accused her chief.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. 350,_

 _Regrettably, your story is considered too traumatising to be shown to young children, and is also too similar to the Gashleycrumb Tinies to be accepted by intellectual property lawyers._

 _We politely ask that you never contact us again._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _The Municipal Board of Education_

* * *

AN: I had fun with this one.


	5. 05 10 17: Legacies

Doo be doo, layin' some groundwork...

* * *

 **05/10/17: Legacies**

 _North Germany, 1945._

Over two hundred men lay dead in the ruins of a German village.

Captain Bailey winced as he looked over the awful scene. The village had since been reoccupied by reinforcements, but the limp forms of British and German infantry alike had yet to be cleared. A Panther tank, its driver's body still hanging from its hatch, was being towed away by a vehicle from the Royal Engineers. The stench was overpowering.

These were the death throes of Nazi Germany. It was clear that the regime was prepared to do repugnant things to make their defeat as painful as possible.

Bailey nodded as Sergeant Edwards walked up to him.

"Engineers says the town centre should be safe to enter, but they're waiting on backup before they head in," he reported.

Bailey nodded. The sound of approaching vehicles filled the air, and he turned around to watch a column of American vehicles roll down the road towards them.

"Speak of the devil," he said.

The trucks pulled up, squads of US Rangers disembarking. At the front of the column was a jeep, its occupants climbing out and heading towards them. Bailey and Edwards saluted.

"Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter," nodded Bailey.

The colonel returned the salute.

"What do we have?" he demanded.

"Engineers say it's some kind of sarin gas," replied Bailey, "Developed either by Department Seventeen or by HYDRA before they broke ties. Department Seventeen seems to have set it off to prevent our men from getting to their office here."

"So they gassed their own men," said Agent Carter.

"To an extent, ma'am," replied Bailey, "Air recce says there's an SS column withdrawing towards Hamburg. We think they left a scratch force of regular army and home guard units to hold us off."

Carter glanced over to the body of a young draftee of the Volkssturm - the German home guard. She shook her head.

"So what in the hell were they protecting?" asked Phillips.

"Well, let me put it this way," replied Bailey, "Remember that file the SOE found when the Yanks took Cologne? They were working on that project here."

Phillips swore.

"Do you know if they managed to move anything?" asked Carter.

"We haven't been able to get into down yet," replied Bailey, "We're about to move. Royal Engineers are securing the square but they've been told not to approach the building unless..."

"Sir!"

An officer of the Royal Engineers ran up to them, hurriedly saluting. Bailey returned it and he spoke.

"We've secured the town square but we have a problem," he said briskly, "The building you wanted, sir, it's...they've burnt it down."

"How bad?" demanded Phillips.

"There's nothing left, sir," replied the engineer.

"That SS column," said Edwards, "You don't think..."

"Sergeant, get on the radio," demanded Carter, "I don't care if you have to go right up to Montgomery, get the RAF after that convoy. Bailey, prepare to move out as soon as possible. I'll gather the Howling Commandos."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Bailey and Edwards both dispersed to carry out their tasks. The engineer watched them go, confused.

"Uh...it's that important, is it?" he asked.

"Yes," growled Phillips, "It _is_."

"So what is it? V2s?"

"Lieutenant," replied Carter, "Right now, an SS convoy is headed to a port, and they may be carrying research relating to one of Department Seventeen's most sinister projects."

She drew her pistol, checking over it to make sure it was in working order.

"I'm sure you can imagine how dangerous _mind control_ would be in the hands of a Nazi remnant?"

* * *

 _Montana, 1963._

The staff car lay on its side as the skirmish raged around it.

Brigadier-General Chester Phillips slowly came to in the back seat. The driver and his adjutant were both either dead or unconscious in the front seats, and he was bleeding heavily from a cut over his forehead. He shook his head and reached under his seat for his shotgun.

The window above him was smashed open. An American soldier franticly motioned to him, his eyes wide with panic.

"General Phillips!" he exclaimed, "We have to get you out of here. It's-"

A shot rang out and he fell, disappearing from view. The General could hear the sound of footsteps.

Phillips held his gun up towards the window.

Presently a scarred man appeared, a old German machine pistol in his hands. He smirked as he pointed it at Phillips.

"Chester Phillips," he said, "It's been some time since I heard that name."

Phillips narrowed his eyes.

" _Otto Skorzeny._ "

Everybody had heard of Skorzeny, back in the day. He had been one of the Nazis' most dangerous soldiers. US intelligence believed he had been recruited by - of all things - Israel's intelligence office, but at the present is seemed that was not the case.

"How did you know where I was?" demanded Phillips.

"Top men, General Phillips, top men," replied Skorzeny.

"You're gonna tell me what you want here," snapped Phillips, "Or I swear to god I'm gonna blow your head off."

"Oh, but that shotgun is clearly empty, General," sneered Skorzeny, "If it was not, you'd have shot me the moment I walked over here."

Phillips scowled.

"So what is it, then?" he demanded, "You're gonna take me prisoner? Take me to your masters, get me to sing to them? Because you know for I fact that I won't do that..."

"I'm just here to send a message," replied Skorzeny.

"And what message would that be?" demanded Phillips.

"PURITY sends its regards."

He pulled the trigger and sprayed the inside of the staff car.

* * *

 _Washington DC, 1970._

It had been a difficult few years for Peggy Carter.

The assassination of Chester Phillips had been a serious blow to SHIELD. Since then, it had felt like the organisation had taken one punch after another. There had been failures to deal with the so-called 'Winter Soldier' that had been repeatedly spotted Vietnam, clashes with the FBI and the CIA over jurisdiction, and the deaths of many of the old SSA hands in the clandestine organisation.

Falsworth had been first to go - cancer had claimed him in the late 1950s. Bailey (although he had technically only been seconded to the SSA) had been killed in Malaya in early 1960. Pinkerton and Sawyer had died on a mission to South Africa in '65. (Also Jack Thompson was dead, but her feelings about that were a little complicated.)

These days, SHIELD was becoming a very lonely place. It didn't help when she was called into meetings with objectively odious people.

Exhibit A: Director J. Edgar Hoover, the obscenely powerful head of the FBI. He was racist, an authoritarian and a man who lusted for power in all its forms. Constantly shadowed by his deputy, Clyde Tolson, the man had dirt on everyone and everything in Washington. He was feared, and rightly so.

But being director of SHIELD meant dealing with men like Hoover, unfortunate though that was.

She was broken out of her thoughts by the arrival of a very important man in the conference room.

"Alright gentlemen, man," said President Richard Nixon, sitting down, "We're gonna try and make it a quick meeting today, I just wanted a briefing on that ODESSA issue."

He flashed an awkward smile, crossing his arms.

"Now, Director Carter's informed me that we might have a problem with a PURITY infiltration of the government," he said, "Now I'm sure you understand that that's a, ah, a pretty awful prospect if true, so..."

"Surely this is something that should be discussed with the CIA?" interrupted Hoover.

"Frankly, Edgar, I don't like to involve Helms in anything he doesn't need to be involved in," replied Nixon, "Now, Peggy, I believe you had a report for us?"

"Yes, Mr. President," nodded Carter, pulling out a sheet of paper from her breast pocket, "We've heard of a lot of money and material being exchanged between people in Washington and high-ranking PURITY members - so far we've confirmed Rausseman himself, Wilkus, Skorzeny..."

"And on our side?" asked Nixon.

"Most of the Americans are using codenames," replied Carter, "We think we've identified George Wallace and Strom Thurmond, as well as several other congressmen, and..."

" _Thurmond?_ " exclaimed Nixon.

He paused.

"Actually now I think about it, that does make sense," he shrugged, "Is there any infiltration of the military? The intelligence services?"

"We are aware of a few generals known to be on PURITY's payroll," nodded Carter, "As well as members of the White House staff. They seem to be co-ordinated around someone called the Chief, although we haven't been able to identify..."

"Probably just some low-life scum in some bureaucratic office," snapped Hoover, "I've been working the Bureau long enough to know it's never the visible men leading these things."

"And I've been running an intelligence agency long enough to realise it often _is_ ," snapped Carter.

Hoover snorted. Behind him, the looming form of Clyde Tolson handed him a note, which he studied carefully before speaking again.

"The Bureau doesn't believe that PURITY cares about operations in the US," he replied, "Most of their resources are being funnelled into white minority populations in Africa; arming them, training them, keeping them from being overrun by the damn..."

He cleared his throat.

"In any case, PURITY is not a national threat, Mr. President," he replied.

Nixon shook his head.

"I believe you're wrong there, Edgar," he replied, "Even if they're only a small presence, they've definitely got their fingers in our pie, and uh, it's enough to make somebody a bit nervous."

He wiped some sweat from his brow and stood up.

"So here's what I want done," he said, "Director Carter, I want you to keep tabs on PURITY. If the sons of bitches so much as sneeze, I wanna know. Edgar, I need you to support SHIELD."

He glanced from Carter to Hoover and nodded to himself.

"This doesn't leave this room, gentlemen, ma'am," he said, "We, uh, we should probably get into the business of watching our backs. Have a good day, Director Hoover, Director Carter."

He walked out of the room with his Secret Service guards, leaving Carter and the FBI men alone.

Carter gathered her things and stood up. There was a loud crash, and she found her arm painfully held down on the table. Hoover loomed next to her, a dark expression on his face.

"I just thought I ought to remind you, Carter," he growled, "That I can break you like a twig."

"So can I," snarled Carter, "And if you ever touch me like that again, I _will_."

She snatched her arm away and stormed out of the room.

* * *

" _Otto."_

 _"Chief! Rausseman needs to know if Carter is going to become a problem."_

 _"Not if we keep her occupied. We have a few useful idiots inside HYDRA, inside the Ten Rings...we get them moving, we'll draw her eyes away from us."_

 _"Good, good. What about Nixon."_

 _"Nixon doesn't seem to understand what we gave him. If it weren't for a few of our interventions, the election might very well have gone to Humphrey, but he doesn't seem to get it."_

 _"I don't care about your electoral politics, and neither does..."_

 _"This is how America works, Skorzeny. You have to work with the system to control it. In any case, it's how we win."_

 _"Explain."_

 _"PURITY needs a smokescreen to gain more power. I propose the biggest smokescreen of them all. We know about people inside the White House - people who'd do anything for their boss, no matter how dirty. We just have to lean on them. We'll create a scandal. Nixon will destroy himself - it's in his character. We're talking about a seismic shift, a fundamental turning point..."_

 _"...which will allow us to infiltrate without anybody noticing. How do you intend to do this, Chief?"_

 _"I'll explain to Rausseman in person. In the meantime, your job is to keep SHIELD looking the other way."_

 _"Very well. Guten tag, Chief."_

 _"Goodbye, Skorzeny."_

J. Edgar Hoover hung up the phone and sat back in his office chair. The infiltration of the United States was going just as planned.

* * *

AN: J. Edgar Hoover is evil? _WHAT A SHOCK._


	6. 06 10 17: Angry Fandom Shelter

This one's later than the others because I had excruciating writer's block. Sorry.

* * *

 **06/10/17: Angry Fandom Shelter**

"...so there's a bunch of single dads, and you date them? That's the game?"

"Yeah, it's...it's better than it sounds."

"Sounds pretty good as it is to me, let's take a..."

There was a knock on the door of the Angry Fandom Shelter. Timmy and I looked up from the computer - quietly, I reached for the Anti-Magic Tommy Gun.

"Remember," I whispered, "If it's about BillDip, we don't wanna know."

Timmy nodded.

I crept to the door and opened it very slowly.

"We got chased here by an angry mob, can we come in?"

I held open the door as Steven and Connie stepped inside, putting down the gun as I did.

"This about NYCC?" asked Timmy.

"Oh yeah," sighed Steven.

"The fandom are...well... _upset,_ " said Connie.

I shrugged.

"Don't blame 'em," I said, "'Winter' is pretty vague airdate. This hiatus grates more and more each day..."

"It's not about that," explained Steven, "It's about the promo clip."

I nodded.

"I see," I said, "Come sit down, let's talk. Turner, get your arse over here!"

I led Steven and Connie to a set of couches in the middle of the room. We sat down, and I adjusted my glasses to look slightly more intellectual before speaking.

"So, they're playing the blame game, aren't they?"

"There's this big debate about how I'm reacting to Steven coming back from Homeworld!" exclaimed Connie, "There's people saying I'm not being reasonable and..."

"Well they're wrong," I said, "You're pretty much objectively in the right."

"I wouldn't go that far," replied Steven, rubbing the back of his neck, "I mean-"

"No. Shut up. She's right," I said bluntly.

I rubbed a hand through my hair.

"Look, this happens _all the time_ in fandom," I explained, "People will get into big discussions over character motivations and whether or not they've done the right thing. And that's fine. And when there's a bit hiatus, like now, and people have had withdrawal for a long time, they get heated."

"I remember the heyday of _my_ fandom," nodded Timmy.

"I still bear the scars of that," I winced.

"So what? They just sit around and point fingers at everyone?" demanded Connie.

"You have no idea kid!"

Bill Cipher phased through the floor, sitting himself down comfortably on an armchair.

"Bill!" I exclaimed, "I've told you, the Creepy Villain Association is three blocks away! _Talk to Vlad!_ "

"V-Man's creepy," sniffed Bill.

" _YOU'RE_ CREEPY!"

"Anyway, I couldn't help but hear your conversation," continued Bill, "I got some first-hand experience, kid, of when _I_ went through this sort of thing."

He sat back, reminiscing.

" _Waaaaaay_ back when I started Weirdmageddon, I thought I was gonna get the recognition I deserved," he said, "All the pieces had been put into place by me, and only me. I thought you bags of unprocessed meat would be lining up to give me the credit!"

His eye narrowed.

"And you know what happened?" he snapped, "All over Tumblr, people were blaming literally everybody but me! Sixer, Pine Tree, Shootin' Star, Blendin, _Gideon_ \- heck, I saw one guy trying to say it was _Manly Dan_. _Manly Dan!_ That guy couldn't plan a fishing trip, never mind a total galactic apocalypse!"

He rolled his eye and crossed his arms.

"Point is, kid, a lot of the time people aren't gonna give ya the credit you deserve! Ya can't let 'em get you, just keep on truckin'!"

"I'd hate to say it, but Bill's right," I nodded, "If you let yourself get upset, it just ruins everything for you."

"See! I told ya I was more than creepiness and fourth-wall jokes!" said Bill.

" _Get out._ "

"Jeez, such a killjoy," grunted Bill, "Alright, I'll see you in your nightmares! Remember, reality is an...ah, you get the idea."

He flashed, collapsed in on himself and disappeared.

"Darn showboater," I grunted.

"I thought that was pretty impressive," mused Timmy.

"Of course you would," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Err, nothing," I said, "Look, I think what people have to remember is that people will disagree with you, and it's not an excuse to form an angry mob. You've gotta stay calm and remember, they're here to enjoy themselves just as much as you are. If you're frustrated by the hiatus, you need to find something closer to look forward to. I'm sure there's something - a video game, another show, an event in your life..."

"You're on a tangent, Captain PSA," interrupted Timmy.

"Right, sorry," I nodded, "Look, it'll pass, guys. We _know_ it'll pass, we've seen the SDCC preview. Until then, you've just got to remember, they're only doing it because they're passionate."

"Yeah, but...they're _still_ an angry mob," reminded Connie.

"And they have pitchforks," added Steven.

"Oh," I nodded, "They're an _armed_ angry mob."

"Yeah."

"And they went after a thirteen-year-old, did they?"

"...uh, yeah, but..."

I stood up, smiling serenely.

"Timmy, would you care to open the arsenal?" I asked.

"Sure, okay," nodded Timmy, walking off.

"You want to fight them?" asked Steven, "But...but there's gotta be a better way! Connie, tell him there's..."

"Nope, sorry, I kinda like his idea," shrugged Connie, drawing her sword.

"You mind if I use this?" asked Timmy, walking into the room holding an enormous German machine gun.

"Sure, if you can lift it," I replied, grabbing the Anti-Magic Tommy Gun, "Well, let's go fight the angry villagers!"

"But guys, you can't just-"

Timmy, Connie and I ran out of the room, weapons drawn.

Steven sighed.

"Well, you tried, Steven, you tried," he said, drawing his shield and following after us.

* * *

 _Police officers responded to a riot at the Angry Fandom Shelter at 1830h. They found three children and a mad suited individual engaging a crowd with pitchforks and torches._

 _After it was made clear that the crowd was attempting to lynch children, the district attorney elected not to charge the children and man, on account of the angry mob being 'sort of terrible'._

 _I don't know why this suddenly turned into a COPS reference. I sort of just ran out of ideas._

 _It's a pretty awful show, is COPS._

 _Uh..._

 _Well, bye._

* * *

AN: Seriously, though, let's keep it civil, eh?


	7. 07 10 17: Coins

I was out of the house all day, so I had limited time to write. I did manage to brush up this from my ideas vault, though. Here's hoping you enjoy.

* * *

 **07/10/17: Coins**

 _H.M. Protected Facility TRITON - Somerset, Great Britain_

To all the world, it looked like a normal cottage in the hills - perhaps an expensive one, but nothing too out of the ordinary. It was silhouetted against the night sky by the light of the full moon - the only sign of illumination was a dim light on the bottom floor. An old man could just about be seen in the window, gazing out into the darkness.

You'd never know this was one of the most secret government installations in Britain.

What appeared to be an ordinary, elderly man was in fact a member of Mi5. By day, he pretended to be a simple farmer - by night, he stood guard over one of the most secret artefacts in the country. He was one of only about a dozen here - Mi5 relied on secrecy over security in keeping people out of here, and a camp of soldiers would probably look suspicious. In any case, he liked to think he was good at what he did.

He was standing in the living room, listening to an old record player that played _Starman_ as he gazed out into the darkness. It seemed to be another average day, and he was about to swap over with one of the Mi5 agents that guarded the objects downstairs.

Quite suddenly, there came a knock on the door.

The agent wasted no time in grabbing his pistol, holding it behind his back as he crept towards the front door. He didn't want to be _too_ forward - it wouldn't do to reveal a top secret government facility to some poor tourist whose car might have broken down outside.

He opened the door. He was quite surprised at what he found.

"May I help you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes, my name is Vlad Masters," the billionaire said, smiling calmly as he nodded to the agent, "And I'm afraid I need to apologise to you."

"Apologise? What about?" demanded the agent.

"This."

The agent was suddenly and violently dragged away from the door by a pair of deathly cold hands. He glanced behind him - for a few seconds, he caught glimpse of a pair of glowing red eyes. Then something came down hard on his head, and everything went dark.

Vlad Plasmius smirked, allowing his human-form clone to merge back into him. He clicked his fingers, and a half-dozen armed gunmen suddenly faded into view on the cottage lawn.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "We haven't got all day."

He walked purposefully over to the bookshelf and pushed it aside, revealing a steep stairwell into a dark, concrete bunker.

"After you," he said, extending his arm towards it.

* * *

Mi5 Analyst Mike Creighton hid in the storage room of the base, peeking out from behind the shelves. Outside the door, two Mi5 agents were standing guard, waiting for the attackers to arrive. He could clearly hear gunshots and footsteps running on the concrete floor - he deeply wished he'd signed up for the Post Office like he'd originally planned to do. He definitely did not want to die guarding some government safe, no sir.

A suited Mi5 agent bolted around the corner, clear terror on his face. He'd dropped his gun and was waving his arms frantically.

"The bullets aren't working!" he shouted, "We have to get out of-"

A pink ray slammed into his back, knocking him hard into the wall. A second later, six armed men in black combat gear rounded the corner, firing at the other two guards as they advanced. The Mi5 men fired back, but their bullets simply bounced from what looked like a pink force-field. A blue-skinned man phased into view behind it - he grinned and thrust out his arms, sending the field crashing into the guards and slamming them into the wall.

"Too easy," the man sneered, strolling into the storage room. The armed men followed - four of them set up to guard the door, while the other two entered with him.

Mike swallowed, trying to press himself closer to the wall. His shoe suddenly squeaked on the concrete.

The man narrowed his eyes.

" _Out,_ " he snarled, "Now."

Mike slowly stepped out from behind the shelves, raising his hands.

"Do you have a name?" the blue-skinned man asked.

"M-Mike," replied Mike, "Michael Creighton."

"Vlad Plasmius," replied Vlad, "Mr. Creighton, I don't have any quarrel with you. I simply want the items in your possession."

"My wallet?" swallowed Mike.

"No, you cretin, the coins," snapped Vlad, "Hand them over."

Mike glanced at the safe. He swallowed again, nodded, and stumbled over to it.

"Okay...okay, 5, 3, 2, 2, 6," he said, entering the combination.

There was a loud hiss, and the door slowly opened. Mike and the two armed men stepped back unconsciously - Vlad remained in place.

What they saw was almost disappointing.

In the safe there stood three discs, about the size of a coaster, a centimetre thick and covered in what looked to be ancient hieroglyphics. All of them were adorned with an image of a pyramid and a bird.

"That's _it?_ " one of the gunmen demanded.

"Oh, _hardly_ , Kevin," replied Vlad, "This is simply the beginning."

He turned to Mike and smiled.

" I, Mr. Creighton," he said, "Am going to have quite a lot of _fun_ with these..."

He knelt down and picked up a coin, turning it over in his hands. For a second, the lines engraved on the coin glowed green.

"...quite a lot of fun indeed."

* * *

Deep in the depths of space, in the dark void between stars, a light turned on. Then another, and another, and another...

Slowly but surely, the largest ship in the galaxy awoke from a dormancy that had lasted millennia and set itself underway. It was bound for Earth.

* * *

AN: mfw Vlad wakes the ancient alien abomination


	8. 08 10 17: Timmy Turner's House of Terror

2spooky4me

* * *

 **08/10/17: Timmy Turner's House of Terrors**

"So your house is haunted," said Connie.

"Well, sort of," replied Timmy, "You see, Crocker's making us do a report on any dead historical person of our choice, and I figured I'd just cut out the middleman and interview one in person. 'Cept I didn't wanna change history again, because contrary to popular belief I do actually learn sometimes, so I wished up the _ghost_ of a historical person. Except I forgot to be specific and Cosmo ended up summing the ghost of Lizzie Borden, because of course he did. Anyway, there was an argument, some people got threatened with axes and Cosmo and Wanda tried to get rid of her. That sort of made her mad, so she summoned an army of ghosts, possessed Cosmo and Wanda and my parents, friends, acquaintances and Vicky, threw me out of the house and turned it into a warped twisted M. C. Escher parody of itself that's bigger on the inside and occasionally screams at people going by."

"...so your house is haunted," repeated Connie.

"Yes."

Timmy stood on the sidewalk outside his house with Steven, Connie, Jimmy, Dipper and Mabel. The house had been horribly transformed - it now resembled a twisted, ramshackle Victorian building that seemed to tilt to the left. There was a hole in the sky above, from which countless bats emerged from a mist of inky darkness. It was certainly not keeping within the building code.

" _Please_ , Turner, ghostly curses aren't scientifically possible," said Jimmy, "It's probably just a localised rift in reality that this Borden woman is using to appear ghostly to you..."

"Jimmy, shut up, it's ghosts," grunted Timmy.

"Alright, fellas."

Sandy, Spongebob and Danny walked up the lawn towards them - the former was holding a device that looked like a Geiger counter.

"We've definitely got a hauntin' here," nodded Sandy.

"And a big one," added Danny, "The Fenton Ghost Counter's picking up three Jacks a second!"

"Three Jacks a second?" questioned Dipper.

"Look, I don't name this stuff, my dad does," replied Danny.

"Point is, we're lookin' at a real Amityville situation," explained Sandy, "This needs to be cleaned up, and fast."

"What happens if we don't?" asked Steven.

"Well, it'll nuke Dimmsdale's TripAdvisor rating, for one thing," shrugged Danny.

"If this haunting continues for too long, your house is gonna turn into a permanent door to the Ghost Zone," said Sandy, "And it might _spread._ "

"That'd bring a whole new meaning to the phrase 'ghost town'," mused Steven.

"So we've...uh...we've gotta go inside, right?" gulped Spongebob, "C-Can't we get the Guys in White to do it?"

"Heh, good one," chuckled Danny, "Seriously, let's get inside."

"Who you gonna call?" exclaimed Mabel.

" _Us!_ "

The group marched to the door, leaving Spongebob behind.

"I...I wasn't joking, though."

* * *

The door creaked shut behind them and they gazed upon the scene.

It was a twisted facsimile of Americana. It looked like a turn-of-the-century entrance hall, with a green fire roaring in a fireplace across from the door. There was ornate, Edwardian furniture, all in dark, brooding colours. There were strange portraits along the walls - a zombie Jefferson, a vampire Lincoln, a two-headed Mark Twain, a werewolf Emma Goldman and an apparently normal Ronald Reagan. Ornate, gothic chandeliers emitted a dim light that exaggerated the shadows.

"Alright, we've gotta work out what kind of haunted house this is," said Danny.

"There's more than one kind?" asked Steven.

"Oh yeah, definitely," nodded Dipper, "There's the standard 'spooky ghost' kind, the ironic punishment kind, the one that's possessed by the Devil and whispers in your ear, the one that picks off your party one-by-one until only one of you is left (and that's almost always a girl, for some reason), the kind that warps around you to confuse you, the kind that..."

"We get it," grunted Jimmy, "Sandy, what's our Jack count?"

"Seven and rising," replied Sandy, "It seems to spike the deeper we get into this place."

"Seven Jacks?" quizzed Danny, "Jeesh, any more and we'd be just about at a Maddie."

"Why do you let your parents name this stuff?" asked Timmy.

"I didn't, the patent office did," replied Danny, "We should keep going - we have to find Lizzie before-"

" ** _WHO GOES THERE?!_** "

"...or maybe she'll just come to us," shrugged Timmy.

There was an explosion of blue fire, and the ghost of Lizzie Borden appeared before them. She looked like a typical, middle-class heiress of the late 19th century - curled hair in a bun, a plain but elegant dress, a necklace - but her eyes glowed red and her transparent blue body seemed to be made of licking flame. She sneered as she took in her esteemed guests.

"'Sup Lizzie," said Timmy.

" ** _You DARE to return to my abode, Timothy Turner?_** " snarled Lizzie, " ** _For that, you must be die!_** "

She pointed threateningly at Timmy.

"Yeah, nice theatrics, _Ganon_ ," replied Timmy, "Look, I've brought my friends with me, and we're _kinda_ good at this sort of thing, so why don't you just head on home and give me my house back?"

" ** _Oh, Timothy, my poor dumb boy,_** " Lizzie said almost sweetly, " ** _My sweet summer child, my naive little snowflake, my-_** "

"Okay, _I get it_ ," grunted Timmy.

" ** _You really thought you could just stroll on in here and take back_** **my** ** _house,_** **my** ** _people,_** **my** ** _things,_** " continued Lizzie, " ** _That's almost adorable. You're not even blinded by anger at my taking of your kin!_** "

"I'm not so much angry as disappointed," replied Timmy.

" ** _You know what, Timothy? I had thought you were useless,_** " said Lizzie, " ** _But God Bless, I like your spunk. You've got a real personality about you - far better than that of my confounded parents, God rest their souls. I think you'd make an_** **excellent** ** _little brother._** "

There was a long silence.

"That went from zero to creepy in five seconds," said Danny.

"Yeah, not gonna happen," snapped Timmy, "Now give me back my family and my house!"

Lizzie laughed, extending her arms. Ink-black snakes shot out of the walls, shooting towards Timmy. He tried to dodge but they wrapped around his ankles and pulled him up into the air. The ceiling vanished, turning into a swirling vortex.

"Timmy!" exclaimed Jimmy.

Danny scowled, changing from human to ghost form.

"Put him down, Borden!" he demanded.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow.

" ** _Ah, the_** **famous** ** _Danny Phantom!_** " she exclaimed, " ** _How's about I challenge you to a game? I'm going to take half of your friends._** "

"No, you are not going..."

Parts of the floorboards broke open as more of the impossibly long snakes burst into the room. They shot towards the group.

"Everyone, run!" shouted Danny, dodging out of the way.

One of the snakes shot past him and caught Steven by the arm. He tried to free it with the shield in his other hand, only for it to wrap around that and lift him up.

"Connie!" he shouted.

"Steven!"

Connie reached for him as he was dragged away into the swirling vortex. She gritted her teeth and faced Lizzie.

"Give him back!" she demanded.

" ** _Why should you get special treatment?_** "

She looked around in time to see Mabel, Jimmy and Spongebob pulled into the sky.

" _Mabel!_ " exclaimed Dipper.

"Spongebob!" shouted Sandy.

All eyes fell on Danny.

"Oh, uh, um, _Jimmy!_ "

"Sandy! _Help, please!_ " Spongebob called back in panic.

"Don't panic, we'll find our own way back!" shouted Jimmy.

" _Kick her butt, Dipper!_ " bellowed Mabel.

The snakes pulled them up and they too vanished into the vortex. Only Timmy remained, suspended next to Lizzie.

" ** _You have until midnight to climb this house and defeat me,_** " she said, " ** _Otherwise, the souls of your friends will be forever lost in LIZZIE BORDEN'S HOUSE OF TERRORS!_** "

"This is _my_ house!" snapped Timmy.

" ** _Good point,_** " nodded Lizzie, " ** _TIMMY TURNER'S HOUSE OF TERRORS!_** "

She laughed manically as she ascended into the vortex, pulling Timmy up behind her.

"Danny!" called Timmy, "Help! _Noooooooooooo!_ "

There was a flash of blue light and they were gone, replaced by a blank ceiling. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Well, that's a darn awful way to start," said Sandy.

Connie drew her sword.

"They've got Steven," she growled, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting him back."

"Y'all have no disagreement from me, Connie," nodded Sandy, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I reckon we've got ourselves a house to climb."

"Yeah, and we're not leaving until we get Mabel...until we get _everyone_ back," added Dipper.

"I dunno, I was gonna hang out with Sam and Tucker tonight," said Danny.

The other three stared at him. He smirked.

"Just kiddin'," he said, "Let's get moving. It's a gonna be a _looooong_ night..."

* * *

AN: Luigi's Mansion? What's that?


	9. 09 10 17: Unidentified Problem

Just as an aside, if you find a plot bunny you like in this collection, feel free to run with it. :)

A quick one today, as it was very busy.

* * *

 **09/10/17: Unidentified Problem**

6.15pm. Blue Room. Wright-Patterson Airbase. Ohio. May 17 1963.

An elderly Vlad Masters walks past the two guards by the door, flashing his pass. They let him through. He meets Doctor James Isaac Neutron. They nod. Down to business.

They know they're being watched. The walls look like mirrors - in reality, they're one-way windows. General LeMay is watching. So are a motley connection of scientists from the Air Force and NASA. This is big. Very big.

They open the curtain. The Roswell corpse is laid out inside. It is a strange creature - clad in the melted remains of ornate armour (or perhaps an outer carapace). No face. Androgynous, perhaps vaguely feminine. Definitely burned and mutilated by the crash of its ship back in '47.

The corpse is connected by wires to a massive computer. The intent is to scan the brain.

The door opens. Half a squad of soldiers file inside. Corporal Chester McBadbat is commanding. Just a precaution, of course.

Vlad marks the time - 6.16. Dr. Neutron walks over to the computer and pulls a series of switches, activating the device. It hums to life - the readings begin to print.

A phone rings - Vlad answers. General LeMay is pleased. He wishes for Dr. Neutron to read him the readings. Vlad nods; he prepares to hand over the telephone.

There is a flash of light.

Suddenly, the alien is standing up, shrouded by a golden aura. A strange, low screeching noise fills the air. Dr. Neutron clutches bleeding ears - it is communicating telepathically with him.

Vlad barks an order. The soldiers raise their rifles. A barked command - fire! - and the room is filled with the deafening report of six M14s. The alien doesn't even flinch.

Dr. Neutron slumps to the ground. The alien turns to Vlad. It is devastating beautiful, and Vlad steps back in awe. It is now 6.17.

Vlad shouts at the alien with trembling voice. It is in American custody. It will not attack US military personnel. This is its final warning.

The alien extends its arms and begins to glow. The soldiers fire again with no effect. The phone rings, but nobody is in a position to answer General LeMay's call.

A voice - ethereal, eerie, beautiful.

"I am not imprisoned. I am _waiting_."

A blinding flash of light blinds everyone in the room.

Eventually, it fades.

6.15pm. Blue Room. Wright-Patterson Airbase. Ohio. May 17 1963.

An elderly Vlad Masters walks past the two guards by the door, flashing his pass...

* * *

"The same scene, repeated every two minutes since 1963."

Agent Mabel Pines watches the scene play out from the other side of the window. The strangest secret of the Blue Room has only just been revealed to her - it is, after all, strictly need-to-know.

"We've never identified what kind of alien it is," Director Ford Pines admits, "But it seems to have some kind of localised control of time. Normally we'd consider this a cold case, but three days ago, a UFO came down in rural Alaska. It's _exactly_ like the one that came down at Roswell."

"So you're sending us to take a look at it?" asks Mabel's partner and brother, Dipper.

"Dipper, you'll be staying with me," replied Ford, "We're reopening study into this...phenomenon. Mabel, I'm sending you to Alaska with Agent Northwest. Go find out what they are, before the CIA pulls the darned thing apart."

"Got it, Grun... _Director_ Ford!" nods Mabel.

"Well, be careful, Mabel," warns Dipper, "You don't wanna end up like these guys."

He points to the time-trapped men inside the room.

"Trust me, Dipper," replies Mabel, "I know what I'm doing."

* * *

9.30am. Crash Site X. Rural Alaska. June 9 2018.

Agents Mabel Pines and Pacifica Northwest step past the marine guards and walk cautiously into the crashed UFO...

* * *

AN: _Leeeeeeet's do the tiiiiiiime warp agaaaaaiiiiin!_


	10. 10 10 17: Scenes from the Gems at Disney

'Tis a small, small world.

* * *

 **10/10/2017: Scenes from the Gems at Disneyland**

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to apologise about the events of last Sunday and provide explanation of the actions of my family during their visit to Disneyland.

You see, we happen to be part of a rebel group known as the Crystal Gems, which has been defending the Earth since time immemorial. Each of us (except Greg) is trained in fighting dangerous corrupted gems and Homeworld warriors. I'm sure you can therefore understand why we might consider ourselves more qualified to handle an emergency than park security. As it occurred, one such emergency occurred during our visit.

* * *

" _Hi, we'd like to buy one ticket into the park?"_

 _The teen at the gate looked at the five Rubies standing in each other's shoulders, clad in a trench coat._

 _"_ _Uh...can I see some ID, ma'am?" he asked nervously._

 _Doc threw a crudely made fake ID onto his desk._

 _"_ _Sorry for questioning you, Ms. Ruebee."_

* * *

At about half past eleven, your park was invaded by a team of vicious and deadly 'Rubies'. They proceeded to invade the maintenance areas of the park and construct deadly weapons with which to attack us.

* * *

 _Navy smiled serenely as she brandished the crowbar._

* * *

Having done this, two of them (henceforth Eyeball and Army) invaded the 'Haunted Mansion' ride in an attempt to ambush us. As it happened, we had split up at the time (which I in retrospect regret), so only our child, Steven, his friend Connie and Amethyst were aboard at the time. Naturally, they had to defend themselves.

* * *

" _You can't use the Hatbox Ghost's hatbox as a bludgeon!" exclaimed Timmy, hiding behind one of the so-called Doom Buggies._

 _"_ _He's a national treasure!" Cosmo added, clutching his hair hysterically._

 _"_ _Grr, I'll bludgeon you in a minute!" shouted Army, hurling the object towards the Buggy in front of them._

 _There was a flash of light, and Smoky Quartz burst out from behind the Buggy, damaging it heavily in the process._

 _"_ _Don't worry, guys, I'll_ head _her off," they quipped, hurling their yo-yo towards the small red gem and causing significant collateral damage._

 _Connie leapt out behind them, sword out. She turned towards Eyeball, who was running over to help her comrade._

 _"_ _And...um...I've got Eyeball in my_ eye! _" she declared._

 _"_ _Get better puns!" shouted Cosmo._

 _"_ _Cosmo, they're saving our lives," scolded Wanda._

 _"_ _If this is the standard of comedy that saves us, I don't want to be saved," huffed Cosmo._

* * *

At about the same time, I happened to be inside the castle with Garnet and Greg when we were unfortunately assaulted by two further rubies (henceforth Navy and Leggy). During this incident, we may have caused some minor damage to the structure.

* * *

 _With a mighty crash, Garnet burst through the wall of the Sleeping Beauty Castle, collapsing much of the front. She landed hard on Main Street, slamming Navy into the ground._

 _Navy chortled dizzily as Disneyland security rushed up, pistols drawn._

 _"_ _Security!" one bellowed, "You're under arrest!"_

 _"_ _I have this handled," replied Garnet stoically._

 _She uppercut Navy with her gauntlet, sending her flying directly into the Disney Gallery. She crashed into the building in a cloud of smoke and dust - Garnet quickly followed._

 _Seconds later, Pearl landed gracefully in the crater Garnet had made, Leggy and Greg under each arm._

 _"_ _I'm very sorry about this," she said to the guards, "Rest assured, Greg will pay for this."_

 _"_ _Wait, what?" exclaimed Greg, "Pearl, I…"_

 _"_ _Thank you for your understanding!" called Pearl as she ran after Garnet._

 _The guards looked at each other, confused._

 _"_ _We gonna follow them?" asked a guard._

 _"_ _For what we're paid?" replied another, "No way."_

* * *

The final ruby (henceforth Doc) was found stalking one of your dark-rides by Lapis and Peridot - apparently she had already been incapacitated at that time, so I can't really explain where the damages there came from.

* * *

"... _it's a small world after all, it's a small world after all, it's a small world after all, it's a small, small…"_

"MAKE IT STOOOOOOP!"

 _Lapis and Peridot watched from the boat as they passed Doc. She was rocking back and forth in the fetal position among the dancing animatronics. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were diluted._

 _"_ _Well, some people have no appreciation of machine-operated ventriloquism," sniffed Peridot._

 _"_ _Mm-hmm," nodded Lapis, not looking up from a park guide she had picked up at the gate._

 _Their boat passed on. A few moments later, another passed through._

 _"_ _Ooh, look, there's a new red one!" said Mabel cheerfully, pointing to the anguished Doc._

 _"_ _Praise to the tireless imagineers, dudes," nodded Soos, "Who work so hard to-"_

 _"_ _I can't take it anymore!" exclaimed Dipper, bursting out of the back seat, "The animatronics are too creepy!"_

 _"_ _And the song...it won't stop!" added Wendy, sitting up next to him and brandishing her axe, "_ Let's tear this place apaaaaaart! _"_

 _"_ Banish the demons! _" screamed Dipper as they burst out of the boat._

 _"_ _Wait! Dipper, Wendy, no!" exclaimed Mabel._

* * *

As for what happened later in the evening, I can give you a perfectly logical explanation. The rubies have their own ship, and it would appear that they brought it over to attack us from the air. I think you'll agree we handled it very well, given the circumstances.

* * *

 _Air raid sirens wailed over Main Street as the Ruby Ship hovered over the station, blasting the street below with red lasers. It was certainly not the best way to find out the ship was actually armed._

 _Quite suddenly, Sardonyx burst through the entrance of_ Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln _, followed by Steven, Connie, Amethyst, Lapis and Peridot. Greg, taking cover behind a wall, swallowed as he looked up at the ship._

 _"_ _Ho boy," he muttered._

 _"_ _Well," noted Sardonyx, "Looks like somebody wants to come back for a Grand Finale! I suppose we should oblige them - it doesn't do to leave an audience without an encore. Steven? Connie?"_

 _"_ _Yes, Sardonyx?" asked Steven._

 _"_ _Why don't we show them some more fusion, shall we?"_

 _Steven and Connie nodded. A quick dance later, Stevonnie stood in their place._

 _"_ _Let's do this," they declared._

 _"_ _Amethyst, Peridot," continued Sardonyx, "Back up Stevonnie - I'm going to try to get you three inside. Lapis, Greg, try to keep the audience back. I can't bear to think of the reviews we'd get if anyone broke something."_

 _Lapis gave her a thumbs up._

 _"_ _Alright, Crystal Gems!" exclaimed Sardonyx, "It's showtime!"_

* * *

I don't feel the need to go back over the battle with the Ruby Ship. It was a dramatic and exciting engagement that can only really be adequately understood by those who'd been there. To describe it again would not do the melee justice - so I won't.

In any case, I am aware this caused some minor damage to Main Street.

* * *

 _The Gems and Greg stood in the smoking ruins of Main Street, the Ruby Ship lying in a crater next to the station. Many things were on fire._

 _"_ _I think we handled that very well," nodded Pearl._

 _"_ _You think, do you?!"_

 _An elderly man in a freshly pressed suit stormed up to them, heavily armed security guards behind him. Greg gulped._

 _"_ _I'm the manager of this park," the suited man barked, "And I'd like to have words with you."_

 _"_ _...how much?" asked Greg in resignation._

 _"_ _A lot, sir. A lot."_

 _Danny and Sam watched as they were led away._

 _"_ _Well," said Danny, "I've gotta hand it to Disney. Their shows are getting_ really _elaborate these days."_

 _Sam nodded._

* * *

In summary, there were several issues associated with our visit to Disneyland, and I would like to sincerely apologise for the damage we caused. Rest assured, Greg will pay for the damages. I would like to add that we feel our ban from the park was not just, considering that we were saving the day.

In conclusion, we are sorry for wrecking Disneyland.

Have a nice day,  
Pearl.

* * *

Dear Pearl,

We appreciate your apology but regret to inform you that we will not be rescinding your ban.

While your help in protecting our patrons is appreciated, serious damage was done to most parts of the park (although we will concede that the Great Animatronics Massacre was not your fault). Much of the park will take weeks to repair and I don't think Walt Disney's head will ever be the same again.

You are free to continue visiting our other, lesser parks.

Yours,  
Disneyland Management

P.S.: Lions are not accepted in Disney car parks or within the parks themselves, for future reference.

* * *

AN: They're still banned from Disney World. They said they could go to _lesser_ theme parks.


	11. 11 10 17: Beginning of the End

This is sort of filler-y, but it's setting up things that need to be set up for later.

* * *

 **11/10/17: Beginning of the End**

Namibia.

The ground shook as dozens of tanks rolled across the Kalahari Desert, bound for the frontline. Around them, armoured vehicles and helicopters carried the better part of a battalion of US Marines. They were here as part of Operation Breaking Dawn - the United Nations' final strike against the extremist group PURITY.

At the head of the column, Garnet sat in a white-painted UN vehicle. She rode in silence - the UN peacekeepers in the front were too nervous to start a conversation, and the official next to her was busy studying his briefing papers. She gazed out over the shrubbery and the sands, watching the sun begin to set on the horizon. It seemed incredibly vast, as if to remind the fusion of how far she was from home.

Presently they passed a pair of sentries and pulled into a small, hastily set up camp. The tanks and marines peeled off to avoid rolling straight through it - they would go around.

This was FOB Collins, a forward operating base that housed the commanders of the mission. It also housed the headquarters of the United Nations Networked Extremism Response Force (NERF) - a hand-picked team of special operatives in the fight against PURITY.

The car pulled up in front of the NERF tent. Garnet stepped out without a word, walking straight past the peacekeepers standing guard and towards the tent.

"Uh, ma'am! You can't go in, there's a briefing!" called one of the guards.

"I know," nodded Garnet, walking straight into the tent.

" _...President Fulton is not happy with the way Breaking Dawn is being run. PURITY is an American problem, we shouldn't need to involve the United Nations. And as for SHIELD..._ "

Three holographic projectors had been set up in the middle of the tent. In the middle, a man in a suit was sternly berating a woman in military fatigues and a man in a very familiar uniform.

"I've seen these people before, sir, and there's _everyone's_ problem," replied Steve Rogers - Captain America.

"Secretary Wilder," added the woman - Colonel Mary Kinnock, "Need I remind you that you're only allowed to operate in Namibia because the UN secured you permission?"

"Captain America," said Garnet, announcing her presence.

Steve turned around - so too did the Colonel.

"What in the - this is a private briefing!" spluttered Kinnock.

"Relax, Colonel," said Steve, "Garnet, isn't it? Good to have you."

" _Yes, we're all happy to have you_ ," grunted Secretary of Defence William Wilder, " _Look, the President's chafing. He wants American troops at the tip of the spear. So those marines we sent in? They stick with NERF like glue._ "

"That would sacrifice a lot of our tactical flexibility, sir," replied Steve.

" _I don't care, Rogers. The President wants his nice pictures of heroic American troops breaking PURITY on the front page of the Times. You want us to keep supporting this hunt? You'd better give him what he wants._ "

Garnet rolled her eyes.

" _Secretary, is that a_ threat? _"_ a gruff voice demanded.

The leftmost projector turned on.

* * *

" _Director. I assume you've been listening to the whole conversation?_ "

Director Nick Fury narrowed his eyes as he gazed unflinchingly at the projection of Wilder. He was on the bridge of the helicarrier, standing offshore in support of the operation.

"Yes," replied Fury, "I will ask again - was that a _threat?_ "

" _Yes, it was,_ " snarled Wilder, " _You don't hold the cards, Fury - we do._ "

" _Look, this argument isn't getting us anywhere,_ " interrupted Kinnock, " _US forces will operate alongside NERF - they make up ninety percent of our forces here, after all - and will provide direct support when it is tactically wise to do so._ "

" _That's all we can promise, Secretary Wilder,_ " nodded Steve.

Wilder shook his head.

" _Well then, you'd better hope the President accepts that,_ " he said, " _I need to brief him. Director Fury, Colonel Kinnock."_

He flickered out of sight. Fury shook his head.

"Rogers, take Garnet and head up to the front," he ordered, "I want PURITY dealt with before any other governments decide to threaten me."

Steve saluted. He and Garnet walked away.

" _I'll get the peacekeepers ready, sir,_ " said Kinnock.

"Have they been given any of those 'Enhanced Reality Implants' yet?" asked Fury.

" _The ones the Yanks have been sticking in their troops' heads?_ " replied Kinnock, " _No. The Taoiseach hasn't bought them yet."_

Fury nodded.

"Just making sure," he said, "Dismissed, Colonel."

Kinnock's hologram vanished. As it did so, one of Fury's senior agents walked up to him.

"Coulson," acknowledged Fury.

Agent Phil Coulson handed Fury a note.

"That came from Reed Richards this morning," he said, "He says the Order of the Thirteen are meeting in Manhattan this evening."

"What about?" replied Fury.

"They're deciding what to do about PURITY," said Coulson.

"Mm-hmm," grunted Fury, "Would've been helpful if they'd done that a year ago."

He shook his head and crossed his arms, leaning back.

"So, this is the final PURITY base, isn't it?" he said.

"It'd seem like that," nodded Coulson.

Fury nodded back.

"If it were me, I'd be planning an ambush about now..."

* * *

Stan paced in the lobby of the Baxter Building, waiting impatiently for his brother to emerge. He glanced at his watch, muttering to himself.

"Come on, how long does your secret society meeting take?" he demanded.

At that moment, the elevator opened. Ford stepped out - he looked very tired.

"Well, what'd they say?" asked Stan.

"We're deadlocked," replied Ford, "Xavier and I managed to talk round Black Bolt, but they're still six in favour and six against intervention. And with Masters missing..."

He sighed heavily.

"There is one bit of good news," he added, pulling a photograph from his coat.

"What's that?"

"Martin K. Allsworthy," replied Ford, showing his brother the photo, "CEO of FutureCorp. He's twenty-two and already the richest man in the United States. He bought out DALV when Masters went missing, and they say he's one court case away from buying out Tony Stark. And all this from a man who was nothing a year ago."

He put the photo back in his coat pocket.

"Reed wants us to infiltrate his company," he continued, "Get into his corporate headquarters, steal the plans for this 'Enhanced Reality Implant' and then get out again."

"So it's a _heist_ ," nodded Stan, "Say no more, Ford, this is _right_ up my alley!"

* * *

Vlad Masters sat in a tiny wooden hut in the Alaskan wilderness, looking out the window at the first snows. Gone was the clean, suited businessman of many months ago - he wore ragged clothes and a long beard.

It was not a comfortable life he lead these days, but his exile was a necessary sacrifice. He had been to FutureCorp. He had found out PURITY's ultimate plan. He had seen which way the wind was blowing.

He had no intention of being around when the storm hit.

* * *

AN: You've got to wonder what's enough to scare Vlad Masters, don't you?


	12. 12 10 17: Trailers

Rated T for Twerp.

* * *

 **12/10/17: Trailers**

"... _interview about his latest film,_ Liam Neeson Kills Everyone. _But first, here's a trailer for another generic teen horror movie that you're going to forget about in twenty minutes._ "

I turned off the TV.

"Trailers are interesting," I said to myself, "The idea seems to be to get everybody as hyped as possible whilst telling people as little as possible about your film."

I scratched my chin.

"That might be a good idea for a oneshot, actually..."

I nodded to myself.

"I think I've got my idea for today..."

* * *

 _"In a world where all trailers begin with the words 'in a world'..."_

We cut to a Generic Suburban House, where Dipper Pines, who is for some reason wearing a fairly generic shirt and tie, is walking outside.

"Ah, what a lovely day," he says.

 _"Everything is going to be turned...UPSIDE DOWN."_

Dipper looks over the road. The house across from him is lying on its roof.

"Oh. It's one of _those_ movies."

 _Fanfiction Dot Net Presents_

 _A Lancaster-Fortress Production_

Dipper is in a dark room full of Serious Government Men. The leading Serious Government Man, Damon Grey, leans over the table towards Dipper.

"We're facing a serious national crisis," he explains, "The Criminals have America's strategic reserve of donuts and coffee."

" _My god._ "

(As one might expect, we flash to images of policemen across America withering like flowers. One struggles to lift his baton, lamenting that he hasn't the strength to commit police brutality.)

"It gets worse," continues Damon, "They raided the White House. They have the President."

Smash cut to a Vicky and Butch in the front seats of a white van. Vicky points a pistol into the back seat.

"You so much as move and I'll give you a new Presidential Seal - _in your head_."

A wax mannequin of Warren G. Harding sits in the back seat, stoically staring down Vicky. To be fair, it cannot do much else - it's a mannequin.

 _WHEN AMERICA NEEDS HEROES_

"Inside this envelope is a miniaturised nuclear bomb," says Jimmy, handing Dipper an envelope, "You need to deliver it to the Criminal HQ, rescue the President and the donuts, and then blow them sky high."

"And you can't send Special Forces to do this...why?" asks Dipper.

"It's Columbus Day. They're on break."

"Oh yeah..."

 _THESE HEROES ARE ANSWERING THE CALL_

"Dipper and Mabel Pines," growls General Abercrombie, "Stevonnie, Dani Phantom, Timmy Turner, Amethyst and Sandy Cheeks; welcome to Operation Insanity."

There is a long silence.

"Well, that's...that's a pretty fitting name," nods Dani.

 _THIS SUMMER_

Dipper and Mabel drive a car that some company is trying to get people to buy at the moments down the side of the Sears Tower, pursued by sinister black limos.

"What even is this scene?!" screams Dipper, "It doesn't make sense!"

"Yeah, but it's _visually stunning!_ " replies Mabel.

 _ACTION_

Sandy brandishes a Tommy Gun, firing it at a gang of Faceless Black Ops Soldiers in Times Square. One gets close, and she grabs him in a headlock, flipping him onto his back.

"Who else wants some, ya varmints?!" she demands, firing the Thompson with one hand.

 _DRAMA_

"Connie, I need to reopen the issue of me breaking my promise to you and going to Homeworld!" exclaims Steven.

"But we're past that by the time of this movie!" replies Connie.

"We need to pad the runtime, Connie!"

 _ROMANCE_

Dipper presses a button on the high-tech car they want to sell that he is driving. A green, holographic Wendy appears.

"Wendy, you're an AI in this movie? Why?" asks Dipper.

"Author appeal," shrugs Wendy.

"So I'm having a romantic arc with a hologram now?" says Dipper.

"Heck, _Blade Runner_ can pull it off," replies Wendy.

" _Blade Runner_ was written by _much_ smarter people than this."

 _TRAGEDY_

A Black Ops soldier shoots Timmy's sandwich out of his hands.

" _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ "

 _SUSPENSE_

"One of you is a _traitor_ ," declares Damon seriously.

"Really?!" exclaims Dani.

"No. We just added that line for the trailer to mislead people," replies Damon.

 _WESTERN_

Dipper and Mabel, dressed in cowboy outfits, ride horses through a dusty western town, shooting revolvers at Nefarious Bandits.

 _MYSTERY_

"Guys," says Amethyst, "I think I found out what happened to D. B. Cooper!"

The camera pans out, revealing a skeleton lying next to a parachute that has clearly failed to open.

 _AND A LOT - AND WE DO MEAN A LOT - OF NAZI PUNCHING_

Stevonnie charges into a squad of SS troopers, swinging the blunt of their sword into one of their faces. They quickly dispatch the rest of them with a combination of sword, shield and fists, until turning to a random Italian Blackshirt who happens to be with the Nazis. He aims his submachine gun at them but is clearly terrified.

"Wait!" he exclaims, "I'm not a Nazi!"

"Don't care," replies Stevonnie, punching him in the jaw.

 _"It's the movie that the New York Times is calling 'a film, presumably."_

Vicky holds a gun at Dani and Timmy, using wax Warren G. Harding as a human shield.

"Not Warren G. Harding!" exclaims Timmy.

"You monsters!" adds Dani.

 _"...the Washington Post says is 'something I watched, perhaps in a fever dream...'"_

Amethyst entangles Antonio López de Santa Anna and many of his troops in her whip as Sandy plants a Texan flag on a rocky crag.

"Freedom for the Republic of Texas!" she shouts.

 _"...and the Late Show's Stephen Colbert called 'like a train wreck crashing into the_ Hindenburg _and the_ Titanic _at the same time.'"_

"I want to kiss you," says Dipper, staring at holo-Wendy, "But you're virtual..."

He stares at his hands.

"Maybe it only works if you're Ryan Gosling."

 _"Get ready for the thrill ride of the year..._ "

Our gang of heroes walk into a darkened Super Villain Lair. The Villain sits in a revolving chair, his back turned to them.

"Oh, you have no idea how deep this goes..."

He turns around. He is revealed to be stroking a salamander for some reason.

" _...dood,_ " says Soos.

 _CROSSOVER CRISIS TO THE MAX PART ONE  
THE FINAL ENDING BEGINS_

"I guess it's true," says Connie, holding Steven's hands, "Love conquers everything."

"Except giant space lizards," says Steven.

"Well, _yeah._ _Nothing_ conquers giant space lizards."

 _IN THEATRES SOON_

* * *

I stopped contemplating and nodded.

"You know, I'd watch that," I said.

I shrugged and turned the TV back on.

" _And now, we talk to Daniel Craig about his new film,_ James Bond: Sequels Pay Forever... _"_

* * *

AN: I do like to write random non-sequiturs.


	13. 13 10 17: The Gift

Why are all my Mabifica stories so _weird?_

* * *

 **13/10/17: The Gift**

The year was 1927, and somewhere in rural Michigan, a strange object had fallen from the sky.

At the crack of dawn, before anybody else could make it to the crater, a convoy of cars rolled into the area, and a gang of men emerged from them. These were not G-Men or police - the fine suits and brand new, imported Bentleys made it clear that these were gangsters. They took hold of the object and sped off long before J. Edgar Hoover's men could arrive. By evening, the object was safely stowed in Chicago.

This was the home of one Preston Northwest, who lived like a king in his own personal fiefdom in the Gold Coast district. His empire stretched only a few blocks, but made about as much money for him as the gross earnings of some countries. It was a kingdom built and fortified by a string of deals with a motley collection of men, from Mayor 'Big Bill' Thompson to the Chicago Outfit. It was a fortress, guarded by Northwest's enforcers.

The Gift, as Northwest called it, was stashed in the basement. It was being prepared for a rainy day.

Halloween Night, 1927. Feast night at Northwest Manor. Attended by journalists, politicians, businessmen, and dozens of big men with Tommy Guns.

Mabel tried to look as anonymous as possible as Preston led his guests down into the basement. Officially, she was a reporter for the _Chicago Tribune_. Unofficially, she was helping facilitate an escape.

"This, gentlemen, is my insurance policy," declared Preston, "It fell from the sky a short month ago, and I intend for it to pay my way to a comfortable retirement."

He pushed open an iron door, revealing a long, dark chamber. At the end of it stood a granite pillar - floating atop it was a small cube-shaped object that glowed green and was covered in strange runes. Preston grinned, motioning for his guests to follow as he strode confidently towards it.

"Now, I'll admit I have no clue as to what it does," he said, "But suffice to say, it could be worth millions. Certainly enough to smooth over... _certain hurdles_ when I withdraw from my line of work."

"It certainly is peculiar," nodded Arnold Shortman, another reporter, "You say it came from space?"

"Landed in Michigan," replied Preston.

"I've been to Michigan," mused Preston's valet.

"Shut up, Jerry," snapped Preston, "If I wanted your asinine comments, I'd ask for them."

He turned around, studying the object.

"I, eh, trust this doesn't change our current arrangements?" Congressman 'Diamond Joe' Quimby asked.

"I've spent too much money on you to throw you aside, Joe," chuckled Preston, "Just keep supporting Prohibition and I'll keep running the local supply."

He and Quimby laughed.

"In any case, it's certainly a conversation piece," continued Preston, "Does this Gift come from God? Perhaps Mars? And was it destined to fall into my..."

"Boss!"

Two enforcers marched into the room, dragging a young woman behind her.

"We caught her tryin' to hop the fence," said one.

Pacifica Northwest looked up, staring down her father.

"Did you, Francis, did you?" nodded Preston, his voice dangerously calm, "I _see._ Bring her here."

"Would you like us to leave, boss?" asked Francis.

"No, no, everybody stays," replied Preston, "I want people to see this."

The enforcers dragged Pacifica over to him. As they did so, he began to speak.

"Now, there have been vicious rumours as to what happened to my late wife," he said.

Priscilla Northwest had gone missing in 1923 after rumours emerged that she was preparing to elope with a police officer. The policeman was later found in an alley - his body riddled with bullets.

"These rumours are false," he declared, "But that doesn't mean I'm not... _firm_ with family members who betray me."

He turned to Pacifica, reaching into his jacket. He produced a short, military-style swagger stick.

"I had this made back when I was in the Army during the Great War," he said (as usual, he failed to mention that he'd never actually made it as far as France), "Twelve inches. Birch. I carry it concealed at all times to remind me of those days - and to remind others of who is in charge."

"Dad," said Pacifica, looking up at her father, "You don't-"

 _THWACK._

Preston swung the stick across Pacifica's face. Mabel gritted her teeth and reached inside her coat.

"No, _you don't_ ," snarled Preston, "You _don't_ speak unless spoken to. You _don't_ try to leave. You _don't_ disobey me."

"That might be a bit much, Mr. Northwest," said Arnold.

"Don't presume to tell me how to discipline my child," snapped Preston, "You don't know what she's done."

"And...uh, what has she done?" asked Jerry, scratching the back of his head.

Preston ignored him.

"Now," he growled, "You are going to apologise. You are going to promise me that you won't try to leave again, and that you will not talk to _anybody_ that I have not first vetted, do you understand?"

There was a long silence.

Then Pacifica spat in his face.

" _Big mistake!_ " Preston roared, raising the stick again.

"Stop!"

All eyes fell on Mabel. She was aiming a snub-nosed revolver at Preston's head. As one, the enforcers trained their guns on her.

"Leave her alone," demanded Mabel.

Preston glanced from his daughter to the 'reporter'. His eyes widened.

"You...you're the..."

He scowled, baring his teeth.

"As if it was not bad enough!" he thundered, "Now I find that my daughter has besmirched the family name in..."

"You besmirched your own name, now let her go!" shouted Mabel.

"You're surrounded by my men and you have no leverage," snarled Preston, "Get out, now, or I _will_ inform the police!"

"Yes she does."

Preston turned. Pacifica was standing next to the dice, her hand hovering over it.

"This...this is _insolence!_ " spat Preston.

"Either we leave, or I break your little toy," snapped Pacifica.

"This is, eh, not impressive child-rearing, Preston," said Quimby.

"Oh you can talk, you lecherous, womanising _BUFFOON!"_ bellowed Preston.

"That is fair," nodded Quimby.

"You listen to me, you little b- ...girl," snarled Preston, his teeth clenched, "You step away from the Gift right now, or I will have my enforcers open fire."

"Whoa! Settle down, it's just a dice, isn't it?" exclaimed Jerry.

"If you step back, I shall simply settle with thrashing you within an inch of your life," continued Preston, "I'll even let your... _esteemed partner_ leave with her life."

"You're bluffing," said Pacifica.

" _Care to try?_ "

Pacifica swallowed.

"Yes," she declared at last.

She grabbed the dice.

" _Fire!_ "

The enforcers opened up, but as they did so, a strange ball of green light appeared around the pedestal and Pacifica. Their bullets bounced harmlessly off the weird, swirling surface.

"What in the name of-" spluttered Jerry.

"Nobody's ever touched that without gloves before," breathed Preston, "I have no idea what this is..."

"What do we do, boss?" asked Francis, "The bullets don't..."

The ball of light began to ripple furiously. A beam of light burst from it, hitting Francis in the chest - like a dirt clod hitting a wall, he evaporated into a cloud. A second beam shot out but a second later, hitting another enforcer and vaporising him too.

"Pa...Pacifica?" stammered Mabel.

"Oh my god, we've gotta run!" exclaimed Jerry.

"There's an emergency exit to the left, move!" shouted Preston.

The group ran for the emergency exit. Politician, enforcer and journalist alike engaged in a mad struggle for the door - some gangsters stayed behind, desperately firing on the ball as they were struck down one by one. A cloud of dust filled the air.

By the time Jerry had pried the door open, only he, Preston, Quimby and Arnold were left of the group. Mabel still stood in the middle of the room - the beams of light seemed to be avoiding her.

A beam erased Quimby a second before he could get through, but Jerry and Arnold managed to get through the doorway. Arnold swung the door shut behind him, closing it on Preston's arm.

"What the heck?" exclaimed Jerry.

"What is the meaning of this, Shortman?!" demanded Preston.

Arnold pulled a pistol from his jacket.

"Al Capone sends his regards," he said.

He fired, hitting Preston in the shoulder. He stumbled back, the door slamming shut as he did so. He fell painfully onto his side.

With some effort, he managed to sit up, gazing towards the end of the room.

The ball was gone. A majestic figure, bathed in an aura of green, floated before him. She was clad in magnificent golden armour, a silver cape over her shoulders. From the hair and the shape of the head, it was unmistakably Pacifica - but she had no face.

"P-P-Pacifica?" Preston stammered.

" _Yes_ ," replied the figure, her voice booming and commanding.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry, I'll let you go, I'll let you go!" begged Preston, "I didn't mean for it to come for this! P-please!"

" _Go outside,_ " replied Pacifica, " _And tell the world that you were a coward._ "

"Yes, yes, definitely!" exclaimed Preston, "I'll tell them everything, I'll tell them I killed your mother, I'll tell them..."

" ** _Go._** "

She turned her back.

Preston reached frantically for a discarded Thompson and opened fire on his daughter, his eyes wild. She turned immediately, holding her hand towards Preston. The gun instantly jammed, and he found he couldn't move.

" _That was a bad idea, Preston_."

She clenched her fist.

Preston screamed and clutched his head, dropping the gun. Slowly, very slowly, his flesh began to flake off, revealing the bones beneath. He screeched as his eyes rolled out of their sockets and his nose and ears crumbled away, and then he stopped screeching as his tongue rotted away. After about a minute, his stripped skeleton collapsed, crashing limply to the stone floor.

Mabel swallowed a scream as she watched this happen - she dropped her revolver in shock.

Pacifica turned to face her, gently dropping to the floor. She put both of her hands on Mabel's shoulders - she must have been about ten feet tall. Mabel swallowed as she looked up at her featureless face.

"What...what _are_ you?" she asked.

" _I am...a lot of things_ ," replied Pacifica, " _I am powerful. I am confused. I am confident and scared._ "

"So...it's complicated?" said Mabel, "Uh...are you still Pacifica?"

" _Yes, I am. I'm just..._ bigger _._ "

"Okay," nodded Mabel, "So what do we do now?"

" _I can't return to normal life_ ," replied Pacifica.

"Well, I've could've guessed that, yeah..."

" _...but I don't want to be alone._ "

Mabel swallowed.

"So, you want me to...become like you?"

" _Yes._ "

"Even though that means losing my old life?"

" _Yes._ "

"Even though it means losing my _face?_ "

" _It's okay, Mabel. You can say no. I understand._ "

Mabel bit her lip for a few seconds.

"You know, Northwest, one day you're gonna have to start appreciating the things I do for you," she said at last.

" _You'll do it?_ "

"'Course I'll do it."

Mabel and Pacifica embraced, and a brilliant green light filled the manor.

* * *

On Halloween Night, 1927, Northwest Manor was consumed by fire. By morning, there was nothing but a burnt shell left. The only survivors were journalist and undercover Capone hitman Arnold Shortman, and the billionaire's valet, Jerry Smith.

After months of investigation, the police ruled out the possibility of arson. It caused a stir for a few weeks but soon fell into the background - like most gang-related Chicago events before the shocking St. Valentines' Day Massacre of 1929, it is now largely forgotten.

However, there remains one conspiracy theory about the fire that has never been put to rest. The number of missing persons reported after the fire by the Chicago Police Department was twenty-nine. Twenty-seven bodies were found. To this day, no adequate explanation has been found for this disparity.

The land of the ruined manor was bought by Mr. Mason 'Dipper' Pines, who converted the mansion into the Mabel Pines Orphanage. He lived there with his wife for the rest of his life - he never shook strange rumours that they talked with ghosts.

The Orphanage is closed today - has been since 1983. The building is abandoned, and yet attempts to demolish it have never really worked out. Whether this is because of haunting or bureaucracy, it is clear that the building will remain for the foreseeable future.

Reports of green lights flashing in the night have been denied by the police.

* * *

AN: Well that happened.


	14. 14 10 17: Bombs Away

This is a playthrough of a game, with a style of humour rather inspired by _Blackadder Goes Forth_. So this is very dark for a comedy day shot. Just a warning there.

* * *

 **14/10/17: Bombs Away**

So there's this game I play sometimes. It's called _B-17: Queen of the Skies_ , and it's about bombers. It's an emulated version of a board game, but I think I prefer to think of it as _Oregon Trail_ in the sky.

The basic goal of the game to survive a bombing run during the Second World War. This was historically dangerous - a staggering 44% of RAF Bomber Command's men were lost over Europe between 1939 and 1945, and that's without counting heavy American losses suffered in daylight raids. Even when they did get through, more often than not the bombers missed their targets - the RAF couldn't consistently drop bombs within three miles of the intended target until 1944, which was one of Harris' rationales for the dubiously moral practice of area bombing.

This is already pretty shaky ground for a comedy one-shot, isn't it? But hey, if _Blackadder_ can pull it off...

The emulator gives us three choices of plane - the B-17 (duh), the B-24 and the Avro Lancaster. Since the game is called 'B-17', I think it's only fitting that we take out...the B-24.

So, the following story was created largely by RNG, ill-advised black comedy and an author desperately trying to thread a decent narrative out of it.

* * *

To; 8th USAAF HQ  
From; HQ, 350th Bombardment Squadron  
Subject; After Action Report: B-24J Bomber _Flying Boxcar_

The B-24J Liberator Bomber _Flying Boxcar_ (tail 44-10382-CF) was delivered to the squadron on New Year's Day, 1943. The crew was picked randomly by drawing from the Squadron Commander's hat, as is the tradition of the 350th. If you can think of a better way, I would like to hear it. Initial crew were as follows;

 _Pilot - CPT Sandy Cheeks. Texan. Initially applied for the army - terrified recruiter referred her to the Navy, where she was referred to the Marines, where she was referred to the Army Air Force, who were not able to further move her on._

 _Co-Pilot - 1LT Phoebe Heyerdahl. Was supposed to be sent to a position in 8th Air Force HQ, but there was a bureaucratic mix-up. It turns out it's easy to mistake a code-breaker for a co-pilot, apparently._

 _Bombardier - 2LT Rick Sanchez. Manufactures own bombs. Responsible for the destruction of three bombers on the ground and the death of a Major General. Exiled to our squadron._

 _Navigator - 2LT AJ Ibrahim. Genius level IQ, mechanical savant, would have made an excellent engineer. Cannot read a map._

 _Engineer - TSG Soos Ramirez. Transferred to the air forces after 'sprucing up' a Sherman tank. Given strict instructions not to touch anything else._

 _Radio Operator - SSG Garnet. Actually two people - it's complicated. Claimed to be able to see possibilities. When I asked, I was told I didn't really want to know._

 _Nose Gunner - SGT Cosmo. Asked if the nose gunner position was safe. When told 'sure, whatever, let's go with that', was contented._

 _Ball Gunner - SGT Summer Smith. Apparently found the job description 'ball gunner' to be amusing._

 _Waist Gunner - SGT Sam Manson. Was hesitant to shoot at the enemy until we told them that they were Nazis. Then became overeager._

 _Tail Gunner - SGT Jimmy Neutron. Believed his position as tail gunner was beneath his intellect. Told to cry the Squadron Commander a river._

Missions by the 350th were conducted on a weekly basis and are described in after action reports below.

* * *

 ** _Week One - January 1943. Target: U-Boat pens in Brest._**

Aircraft was not attacked prior to approach on target, at which point fighter cover magically vanished and the Luftwaffe promptly dogpiled the squadron. (Please bring this up with the fighter boys - I'd do it myself but the commander of the escort squadron is bigger than me).

Two Fw190s attacked the _Flying Boxcar_ and were fired upon. Technical Sergeant Ramirez scored a direct hit on one of the Fw190s and shot it down - exactly how our engineer could shoot down a plane and our dedicated gunners couldn't was anybody's guess. Two more fighters - heavier Bf110s - followed the first wave, but both they and our gunners missed their targets.

40% of the _Flying Boxcar_ 's bombs hit their target. That's nearly half, which is better than I'd expected, to be honest. As the plane turned, it was attacked by a lone, particularly brave Bf109 fighter. The bomber fired on it. They missed. The Bf109 came around for a second round, and again everybody missed.

Despite approaching home, our fighters still hadn't reappeared. Despite being hit by three fighters (again, all missed by our gunners), the bomber sustained only superficial damage. The Germans may be weaponizing BB-darts.

The fighters passed again and a Bf109 scored a lucky hit, lightly wounding Sergeant Neutron (it's just a missing ring finger, walk it off man) and knocking out the tail and waist turrets. At this point, they gave up and returned to base.

The bomber landed back in Britain. Our fighter cover was found on the ground having a barbeque. _Fighter jocks_.

* * *

 ** _Week Two - January 1943. Target: Railway yard at Amiens._**

Asked Brigadier-General Doolittle about talking to the fighter jocks. He told me to suck it up. I went over his head to General Spaatz. He told me to suck it up.

Squadron departed England and crossed the channel with adequate fighter support. Escorting P-47 shot down a Bf109. Apparently elated by this victory, most of the fighter support hurried off home to celebrate, at which point we were attacked by fighters.

The _Flying Boxcar_ was hit by a diving Bf110. Navigation and oxygen systems were knocked out. Staff-Sergeant Garnet and Sergeant Manson received light wounds. The aircraft caught fire but the fire was put out. Captain Cheeks exchanged choice words with fighter escorts on the radio.

Bomb run was on target with 60% of bombs hitting, which was better than expected. After this, due to low oxygen, the _Flying Boxcar_ dropped formation and flew low on its return flight.

As she reached the Channel, the aircraft was dogpiled by four fighters. One of the engines was shot out and the radio was lost. At least that shut out the fighter boys.

Despite the odds, _Flying Boxcar_ managed to land safely. Captain Cheeks promptly exited the aircraft and got into a fight with the nearest fighter pilot - he happened to be from a different squadron to our escorts, though, and she had to apologise.

* * *

 ** _Week Three - January 1943. Target: Railway yard at Amiens._**

Three weeks over France. General Doolittle ordered a second strike on Amiens.

Flight to target occurred entirely as routine. Fighter jocks managed to provide adequate escort for once, even shooting down two Bf-109s. They then radioed the bomber I happened to be flying in, the _Tip of the Spear_ , and called me particularly rude names.

On approach to the target, a Bf-110 made it through the fighter cover and strafed the _Flying Boxcar_ , but caused no damage. Hypothesis that the Germans are using BB-darts in lieu of cannon shells and machine gun bullets again raised.

Ten minutes from target, a radio transmission from Captain Cheeks questioned the wisdom of hitting a target twice in a row. First Lieutenant Heyerdahl hypothesised that Doolittle doesn't consider something destroyed until it looks like the surface of the moon. Sergeant Manson launched into rant about the management of the bomber offensive. Colourful language used.

" _Apparently_ ," she declared, " _The brass consider this_ 'liberation' _. Well, we're liberating the_ hell _out of this pl-_ "

From my position aboard the _Tip of the Spear_ , I saw the _Flying Boxcar_ hit in the waist by anti-aircraft fire. Flak filled the air.

" _Sam?_ _Garnet, what in the heck happened back there?_ "

Coughing.

" _Direct hit...she's hit. Fuselage is on fire..._ "

My pilot spoke into the radio.

"Flying Boxcar _, this is_ Tip of the Spear _, I'm seeing smoke from your kite, over._ "

" _Copy, I'm tryin' to keep her..._ "

A second flak hit, again into the fuselage.

In the blue skies over northern France, the _Flying Boxcar_ lights up like a Roman candle. She spins downward, disintegrating into a hundred pieces that rain over the green fields below. There are no parachutes.

The rest of the squadron landed that evening. 8th Air Force headquarters declared the attack a success - losses 'negligible.'

Three weeks over France.

* * *

This ended up being even more like _Blackadder Goes Forth_ than I anticipated.

I anticipated the possibility that I'd end up losing the plane. I didn't think it would happen in _three_ missions, though.


	15. 15 10 17: Stop Press

Just a quick one today - I've got some homework I need to get done.

* * *

 **15/10/17: Stop Press**

 **DRAMATIC ELECTION UPSET!  
Fulton Defeats Simpson In Unexpected Victory!**

WASHINGTON DC - Just before midnight last night, Senator Lisa Simpson conceded defeat to Governor Henry Edward Fulton, confirming that the Pennsylvanian Governor will become the next President of the United States. This followed a dramatic election night, in which Governor Fulton won 350 electoral votes to Senator Simpson's 188.

Senator Simpson, who had been tipped to win the election by a comfortable margin, suffered a dramatic reversal in the opinion polls after the attack by PURITY on the White House on Halloween. A dramatic Congressional inquiry into the incident shattered public confidence in the then president...

* * *

 **MARTIN K. ALLSWORTHY AQUIRES DALV  
Missing Billionaire's Company Sold Off - Absorbed by FutureCorp**

SAN JOSE, CA - Just weeks after the sudden disappearance of businessman and Amity Park Mayor Vlad Masters, FutureCorp CEO Martin K. Allsworthy has announced his acquisition of the DALV Conglomerate. The massive institution, parent company of Mastersoft, Axion Labs and other tech giants, will be dissolved - its assets will be brought under direct FutureCorp control...

* * *

 **AXION LABS SHUTTERED  
Jobs Moved to California - Hundreds of Workers Laid Off**

AMITY PARK, IL - Hundreds of Amity Park workers found themselves unemployed this morning as Axion Labs was abruptly closed, pending a move to San Jose.

Mr. Damon Grey, who refused an offer of relocation to California, was less than sanguine about the move. "FutureCorp doesn't care about the average worker," he told our reporter, "Allsworthy's bottom line is money - at all costs."

Mr. Allsworthy declined a request for comment...

* * *

 **INHUMAN NEGOTIATIONS STALLED  
President Leaves Talks With Queen Medusa Following Revelation Of Terrigen Weapons Program**

NEW YORK CITY, NY - President Fulton walked out of talks with the administration of Attilan after refusing to end the Pentagon's Terrigen Weaponisation Project, which was revealed in an explosive online leak last week.

"We are a sovereign nation," the President declared, "And will not accept limits on our weapons development programs unless it is the will of the American people to accept them."

Newly-appointed Secretary of Defence William Wilder, who is overseeing the ERI rollout, declined to comment...

* * *

 **NO DICE!  
Stark Refuses to Consider FutureCorp Buyout**

MALIBU, CA - Tony Stark has attempted to shoot down speculation of an aggressive buyout of Stark Industries by FutureCorp.

"Allsworthy might think he's pretty hot stuff," said Stark, "But let's face it - I've been doing this too long to be beaten by a wannabe Mark Zuckerburg with a chequered shirt and a late-nineties punk haircut. We're gonna be doing business as usual over here, and they're going to have to live with that."

FutureCorp CEO Martin K. Allsworthy shot back just as quickly.

"Stark's old news," he said, "And he'll be lost in time - like tears in the rain, if you will. Sorry, couldn't resist the reference. In any case, the Stark Industries Board has given me some interesting offers, and we'll be seeing Mr. Stark in court..."

* * *

 **AIR FORCE OFFICER KILLED IN BUNGLED TEST!  
Public Demand Answers!**

WOOMERA, AUSTRALIA - USAF General Ernest T. Abercrombie and a large number of American and Australian enlisted men were killed yesterday in a failed Terrigen Bomb test at the Woomera Test Range in Australia. This is the worst weapons test failure in the history of the United States Military.

Speaking to reporters through an interpreter, the Inhuman Black Bolt reminded the President of the dangers of terrigen weapons and requested that the United States relinquish their stockpiles to Attilan immediately...

* * *

 **UNITED NATIONS ENTER NAMIBIA  
Last PURITY Base Under Assault by US, Allied Forces**

NAMIBIA - The first United Nations forces landed in Namibia today to take part in Operation Breaking Dawn - the attack on PURITY's final base. Due to the sensitivity of the mission, reporters were not attached, but it is known that Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) is one of the mission's leaders.

Admiral Eugene Massinger, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, stated that US Marines will be deployed to join the peacekeepers within the next week...

* * *

 **COURT RULING - STARK FINISHED!  
Supreme Court Rules in Allsworthy's Favour**

WASHINGTON DC - An elated Martin K. Allsworthy emerged from the Supreme Court today after a 5-4 decision in his favour allowed him to buy out Stark Industries.

"The court has seen sense!" he declared, "And with that behind us, we can move on to building better worlds. Keep watching FutureCorp - we're going to be doing _very_ interesting things."

The only consolation to Tony Stark was that the court ruled that the Iron Man suits and concept were his personal intellectual property and did not need to be handed to Mr. Allsworthy...

* * *

"Today's paper, sir!"

The prisoner looked up as his guards opened his cell, allowing a marine officer to walk inside. He smiled as he was handed the newspaper, looking at the cover.

"So Herr Stark is finished?" he sneered, "How long until we move?"

"We truck you out tonight, sir," replied the officer, "Bound for San Jose. You'll be there when it's done, don't worry."

General Armin Rausseman, commander of PURITY, grinned.

"Very good," he nodded, "Dismissed, lieutenant."

He chuckled to himself as the lieutenant left.

"Terrigen weapons, secret bases, tech companies," he whispered to himself. "It really is true, isn't it?"

He grinned.

"The best way to hide your plan is to make it look like you plan to do something _completely_ different..."

* * *

AN: He got Valerie's Dad fired again?! Allsworthy, you _monster!_


	16. 16 10 17: E350 Presents: Bluebeard

Why are they called fairy tales? A lot of them don't even have fairies in them, man!

* * *

 **16/10/17: E350 Presents: The Tale of Bluebeard**

Hi! I'm E350. I'm still writing an essay. It's...challenging. But it leaves me very little time to actually come up with and write stories, so I thought I'd try this.

This is a somewhat twisted adaption of the fairytale 'Bluebeard', which according to Wikipedia originates in France in the 1690s (not to be confused with the _1960s_ , which was a slightly different time.) I hope you enjoy it, and if it goes well, perhaps we can make a thing of doing this.

* * *

 _E350 Presents..._

 **Bluebeard**

Once upon a time, perhaps 1775 or thereabouts if you want to be overly specific, there was a vicious and ugly nobleman, who lived in an enormous castle overlooking a fishing village. Now this vicious and ugly nobleman, whom had no friends and lived in solitude, was...

 _"Geez, could ya cut it out a little? I got feelin's too, y'know?"_

Right, right. Anyway, this guy was called Bluebeard. Or sometimes Moe. Moebeard? We'll stick with Bluebeard.

Anyway, Bluebeard had had many wives, all of whom had mysteriously vanished. This would normally be considered suspicious, but Bluebeard was _loaded_ so he generally wasn't investigated. It had been three weeks since his last wife had vanished, and he was feeling lonely - he decided he'd saunter down to the village to find a new wife, and maybe a new broom as well.

In this village, there was a place called St. Whatever's Home for Homeless Young Women and Marine Barracks, which was a home for destitute orphaned women who people felt deep sympathy and pity for, and destitute marines, who people didn't. In this home there lived a pair of - well, they weren't sisters, so let's say roomies called Tambry and Wendy.

On this particular day, they were home when Bluebeard arrived at the Home, and were dragged into a banquet in the nobleman's honour by the Mother Superior, Hubert Farnsworth.

When Bluebeard lay eyes on Tambry, he was infatuated. Not in the true love, way, in the 'that's a nifty Funko Pop and I need to take it home right now' way. He asked the Mother Superior for her hand immediately.

"Now, Bluebeard, it's illegal for me to sell you her," said Farnsworth, "She's not _technically_ a slave..."

"I'll give ya a mule," offered Bluebeard.

"A _mule?!_ Hot dog! She's yours!"

"Don't I get a say in this?" demanded Tambry.

"In 1775? No way!" replied Farnsworth.

And so, Bluebeard dragged Tambry back to his castle, where they spent the night sitting in awkward silence in his living room.

Some weeks later, Bluebeard had to leave his castle to visit Parliament - something about some sort of unpleasantness in the American Colonies. He left Tambry in charge of the castle.

"Now don't you go in my creepy basement," he said as he left.

"I won't!" replied Tambry.

She then immediately began planning to go into his creepy basement.

First, however, she held a party, because what you always do when you're alone at home with no supervision. While the party was in full swing above, she ducked out to look in the creepy basement.

She stepped down the stairs and lit a torch.

She found herself knee deep in blood. Before her were the mutilated corpses of Bluebeard's previous wives - Duchess Paulina of Catalonia, Princess Desiree, the Dowager Kevin and a bunch of other characters that I don't like very much.

"Well, I'm _shocked_ , but I'm not that shocked," nodded Tambry.

"Now that you know about this, I can't let ya leave..."

Tambry turned. Bluebeard was walking down the stairs, brandishing a dagger.

"I thought you'd gone to London!" exclaimed Tambry.

"Yeah, I forgot my coin purse," nodded Bluebeard, "I had to go get that and..."

He patted his rear.

"...oh wait, it's in my back pocket. That's a relief. Well, time for you to die!"

He began to advance on Tambry, whose back was pressed against a wall. She swallowed and trembled with fear as he prepared to stab.

"If only there was some kind of deus ex machina to save me!" she exclaimed.

Suddenly, Bluebeard stopped as an axe was thrust into his spine.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, "A deus ex machina!"

He fell to his knees, revealing Wendy behind him.

"'Sup," she said.

"'Sup," said Tambry.

"Argh! Why'd you have to get me in the spine!" groaned Bluebeard, "Oh well, at least I have this other door to escape through..."

He opened the door.

" _Fire!_ "

A troop of marines standing in the door way shot him, and he fell onto his back.

"Aw, _why?!_ " he exclaimed, "What're you even doing here?!"

"Obligatory Redcoat Appearance," replied the Marine Captain.

"Eh, fair enough."

Bluebeard clutched his chest wounds.

"My only regret," he proclaimed, "Is that I...never got to eat...Tambry's liver..."

On hearing this, the marines reloaded and shot him again.

"Yeah...I deserve this," admitted Bluebeard.

He promptly died.

"Wendy! You saved me!" said Tambry, embracing her friends, "Oh, and those guys did too, I guess."

"Wait a minute, wasn't he selling meat to the barracks?" asked one of the marines.

"He was," replied another, "Let's not think too hard about that."

And so, Bluebeard was struck down, and Tambry inherited his castle and all of his money. She opened the doors of her castle to all the destitute women (and marines) at the old Home, and Farnsworth was forced out of business. She had to hire somebody to clean out the basement, but she was paying well, so nobody asked any awkward questions.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Except Bluebeard.

And the butchered wives.

And Farnsworth.

But all the important people lived happily ever after, which is the main thing.

 **The End**

* * *

AN: Man, fairy tales are _dark._


	17. 17 10 17: The Trans-European Express

This one's a bit late, but I think you might be able to see why. It's definitely one of my longest HU entries to date.

* * *

 **17/10/17: The Trans-European Express**

The Trans-Europe Express, contrary to what many travel agents will tell you, isn't really a single, unbroken journey across the European continent. Rather, it is a colloquial term for a series of trains operated by a variety of companies and governments that can, if one is willing to pay the exuberant price asked, be travelled on by a single rail pass. It should not be compared to the fast, comfortable and easy Trans-America Express that runs from Washington to Los Angeles.

It is, perhaps, best described as an experience, or perhaps an ordeal. I was working with a paper at the time, and was dispatched to cover talks between the Tsar and the Kaiser in Moscow. I decided to make an adventure out of it, and take the train.

Conventionally, the journey starts from London. I, however, had been visiting Edinburgh before my own journey, and elected to add the southbound 'Flying Scotsman' to my trip.

The 'Flying Scotsman' is a journey back in time, like other legs of the Trans-European trip. Unlike those other legs, this is intentional. Although the London and North Eastern Railway have long abandoned steam in favour of diesels and electrics, the company is PR-savvy and well connected with its history. Five immaculately preserved sets of coaches are retained by the company in 1930s condition, and the LNER's famed 'historical fleet' of steam and early diesel engines are rostered to take them every weekend, once a day each way.

The journey travels the East Coast Main Line - long superseded by the famous Eastern High-Speed Railway - and takes about seven or eight hours. On my journey, the trip was headed by the famous 'A1' 4-6-2 No. 4472 _Flying Scotsman_ , and it was certainly one of the more comfortable legs of the journey.

As I took lunch in the dining car, however, I came upon an unusual fellow traveller. He was a strange, elderly man with six fingers on each hand - he rode with a well-dressed fellow who I soon discovered was the American Ambassador to Great Britain.

"Dr. Pines," the ambassador declared, loud enough to be heard from my table, "A man of your stature is wasted in private work! The US Government would love to..."

"Thank you, ambassador, but I'm afraid I have work that needs doing here," Dr. Pines replied.

"Well, when you're done," began the ambassador, "Maybe..."

"When I'm done," Dr. Pines replied, "I will be very much _done._ "

He excused himself and walked away.

I thought little of it at the time. I was content to watch from my window as the train swept past the great factories of the Tyne, that most historic city of York, through the emerging suburbs of Greater London, and finally into Kings Cross. By the time I retired that night, this cryptic conversation was far from my mind. I believed it would be little more than an amusing anecdote.

How little I knew.

* * *

Marylebone Station is among the busiest in the world. It is the centrepiece of the Cross-Channel Railway - that most beautiful product of the mind of Sir Edward Watkin, although he is more famous for the colossal Wembley Tower. The Cross-Channel Railway is now one of the busiest in the world - trains to places as diverse as Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam and even Zurich can be caught on the hour, every hour, if not even more regularly.

Those whose countries are members of the Channel Pact can board without passing through passport checkpoints. It was thus with great ease that I boarded what many call the Tulip Express to Amsterdam. I elected to travel in a shared compartment, as train travel is often just as much about the people as it is the journey, and found myself sitting with a nervous young man and his partner.

This was Doctor James Isaac Neutron - he had been appointed to the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute as a professor of mechanical science. It seemed a prestigious appointment - but both he and I knew for a fact that there were dangers.

"Germany's not a good place for an intellectual these days," he told me.

"Kaiser Friedrich's certainly been proving anti-reformist," I agreed.

"Anti-reformist?" Dr. Neutron's partner, Cindy, spluttered, "Did you see what they did to those students?"

The Berlin Student Riots had made papers around the world. Dozens of young intellectuals clamouring for liberalisation had been beaten and arrested by the Landwehr - three had been shot. Following that, 'provocateurs' at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute had been dragged from their officers and jailed. Intellectuals and liberals around the world had been mortified, and there were calls to boycott German goods.

"It's the sort of thing," I mused, "That makes you glad to live within the Channel Pact."

The high-speed train soon left Marylebone and sped across the Kentish countryside, eventually screaming through Dover and into the Cross-Channel Tunnel. This great Victorian marvel has often been called a Wonder of the Industrial World, and it is not hard to see why. A tunnel from Dover to Calais, built with the technology available in the 1880s - a truly marvellous undertaking, although it did cost scores of lives to complete.

"Do you think you'll be safe in Berlin?" I asked.

Dr. Neutron wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

"I should be," he replied, "They're going after humanities professors, not mechanical engineers."

"And if they do come for us," declared Cindy, "They'll have to get through _me_."

"You think you can take on the Prussian Landwehr?" asked Dr. Neutron.

"Neutron, I _know_ I can."

After two hours of travel, the train rolled into Amsterdam Centraal Station. I bid my companions farewell and offered them the best of luck.

As I travelled to my lodgings for the night, I happened to pass an arrest. A pair of constables were dragging a women from her house as she screamed defiantly at all passersby. I didn't speak Dutch - I asked another man what she was saying.

"Ignore her," he declared, "Just one of those mad terrorists in the Mechanical League."

* * *

The day I left Amsterdam was a day that would become infamous the world over.

I saw it in the paper as I left my hotel. ' _Mechanical League Madmen Bomb Paris!_ ' it declared hysterically. I hoped it wasn't as bad as it looked, but I soon found out the full extent of what had happened.

Two members of the Mechanical League had thrown bombs at the Emperor's motorcade as it drove up the Champs-Élysées. The Emperor hadn't been hurt, but a dozen were killed, including the First Minister. Over the next few weeks, Napoleon VII would respond with unparalleled ruthlessness - transhumanists and mechanists were rounded up across France, and a few would be publically guillotined.

Among other things, this led to heightened security at Centraal Station. Along with the standard passport checks for those boarding trains out of the Pact, I was searched repeatedly. At least one security officer offered an explanation; 'they bombed France today, but they might bomb the Pact tomorrow.'

For decades, a direct train link between Amsterdam and Berlin was unthinkable - the Dutch Government's participation in the Channel Pact led the Germans to call them 'vassals of the British' and repeatedly threaten invasion. The fact that this train exists - even if it runs only once a week - is a sign that detente is working, at least on one front.

The train is run by the Deutsches Reichsbahn, and it's hardly a crack express - the rolling stock dates to the 1980s, as does the weary diesel that pulls it. I had booked a position in a sleeper, to make the overnight trip somewhat more bearable.

As the sun went down and we rolled across the North German Plain, I ventured for dinner in the dining car. There, I was served by a decidedly gloomy DR staff. The food was almost inedible, but the conversation was fascinating.

As I tried to work out what meat my sausage _actually_ contained, I suddenly realised that Dr. Pines from the 'Flying Scotsman' was sitting at the table across from me. He travelled with a young woman - red haired, probably just out of her teens. She wore a long glove on her right arm that ran right up to her shoulder, and something seemed strange about her eyes.

"Ah, so you've noticed them!"

Another man sat across from me, and quickly introduced himself as Tucker Foley.

"Trust me, I know the signs," he told me, "That woman? She's _transhuman_."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What on Earth is a transhuman doing in the German Empire?" I asked, "Why wouldn't they go somewhere where they'd be free, like the USA or Britain?"

Tucker scoffed.

"Free, huh?" he shrugged, "Well, that's not the strangest thing about them."

"And what is?" I asked.

"I've been listening to them," replied Tucker, "They're going to _Russia_. Can you believe it?"

* * *

What can be said about Berlin?

In the 1920s and 30s, Berlin was entirely rebuilt by the government of Kaiser Wilhelm III. They tore down the Reichstag and the Brandenburg Gate, and replaced them with a city of 'New German Modernism' - a concrete jungle, an ode to brutalism, massive in scale. Karl Liebknecht, in a rare discussion of his homeland after his exile, called it 'an ode to the wanton destruction of culture.' He was not wrong.

Templehof is one of the centrepieces of the new Berlin. It is terrifying to behold. It is at once a railway station, an airport and a commercial hub - once it even landed airships on its massive concrete roof. The site is so large it requires its own light rail system to service it. It is policed by bands of Landwehr that march to and fro.

Perhaps the most striking thing about it is the complete lack of colour. Everything is grey.

I was to stay the night at lodgings at Templehof, although when I first laid eyes upon it I desired nothing more than to leave and never return. The more I stayed, the more unsettled I felt. I realised it was not just the building that was grey and lifeless - so too were the people. Grey and brown suits, grey and brown dresses, grey and brown uniforms - even their skins seemed grey.

I didn't sleep that night. In the darkness of my hotel room, I thought I heard a strange creaking noise in the walls. I had heard it said that there were strange forces at work in Berlin that kept the population in line. I had always dismissed them, but at that dark hour, I could not help but wonder if it was true. Perhaps this 'New German Modernism' had been thorough enough to throttle the life of the city of Berlin, to turn it into this model city of model people.

My train left just before dawn. I was glad to leave.

* * *

The Berlin to Warsaw train was another drop as far as comfort was concerned. Most of my fellow passengers were soldiers, bound for their billets in Poland. The horror stories that had emerged from Poland every day since the turn of the twentieth century were the sorts of things that didn't bear thinking about - although an officer returning from leave seemed eager to talk about them with me.

"The Pole needs an iron rod to be kept in line," declared the Oberleutnant.

"And what is their crime?" I asked.

She looked out the window.

"We were called in to deal with a cultural issue," she told me, "A village near Krakau. We arrested the village leaders - the mayor, the schoolmaster, one out of every three male adults. We lined them up against a wall, one by one."

She mimed firing a rifle and chuckled.

"And what was their crime?" I asked again.

"They were teaching their children Polish," replied the Oberleutnant.

She shook her head.

"The _bullet_ ," she spat, "That is the only language these savages understand."

I excused myself at the earliest opportunity and returned to my compartment.

Some hours later, there was a frantic knock on my compartment door. I opened it, and found two young men standing outside.

"You're a Pact citizen, aren't you?" asked one.

"Yes, British," I replied.

"We need to hide in your compartment," said the other calmly.

"And...you are?" I asked.

"Buck," replied the calmer one, "My p... _friend_ is Sour Cream."

"Odd name," I mused.

" _Papiere!_ "

"Alright," I said, hearing the guard's cry, "Get in."

They hurried inside and hid under the seats. Shortly thereafter, a couple of border guards approached my door - both were armed.

"Papiere, bitte."

I opened the door just enough to show them my passport.

"Danke," nodded one of the guards, "One more thing, have you seen a pair of youths around here? We think they jumped onto the train when it stopped at Dresden."

I shrugged.

"What is their crime?" I asked.

"They are known...I don't know the English word... _abweichende_."

"Deviants, Franz, the word is deviants," his partner interrupted.

"I see," I nodded, "No, sir, I've seen nothing."

The men nodded.

"Inform the commandant at Warschau if you do," said one, "Auf weidersehen."

"Auf weidersehen," I nodded, watching them walk away.

I closed the door.

"They're gone," I said.

Buck and Sour Cream emerged from under the chairs.

"Thanks," said Sour Cream, "We appreciate it."

"So what now?" I asked.

"We run for Austria," replied Buck, "And then to the United States."

I stayed with them until the train pulled into Warsaw, but as we alighted the train, we encountered a crowd on the platform and I lost sight of them.

Wherever they are now, I hope they made it.

* * *

I didn't stay in Warsaw - it doesn't do to stay there. It's very much an occupied city, and has been since the uprising in 1973.

What followed would be the most uncomfortable leg of the journey - the train across the border and across Belarus to Moscow. It would take two days, and would require a change of trains in Minsk. The train from Warsaw to Minsk is operated jointly by the German and Russian governments, and is infamous for being closed for long stretches of time every time there is an international crisis. The joke is that if the Kaiser sneezes, the Tsar closes the Minsk Railway.

Entering the Russian Empire is a painful experience. The train is stopped at the border, and everybody must get out to be checked in a small checkpoint with no heating or air conditioning. It takes them twenty minutes to get through background checks for each passenger, and therefore takes the better part of the day to complete.

It was an intimidating experience. I was interrogated by a heavyset man who spoke broken English and kept an old minigun by his desk as a memento of his time in the Imperial Russian Army.

"Says here you once member of Labour Party?" he growled.

"I was a member of the University's Labour Party, yes," I replied, "But that didn't really mean anything."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Are you communist?" he demanded.

"No."

It took him five minutes of checks to be convinced that I was not, in fact, a communist, and fifteen more minutes to be satisfied that I was not a threat to national security.

Once I had made it through the checkpoint, I returned to my compartment and went to sleep. I did not wake up until the train was pulling into Minsk.

* * *

The first snows fell as we left Minsk.

Once again, I was aboard a steam-hauled train - but this was a revenue-earning service. The Tsar felt no need to spend money on Belarus when he could spend it on Russia itself - or on making his own life more comfortable. It is said that his residence is a technological marvel, and here I was riding behind a steam engine in a carriage with no heating.

I was restless that night, and got up to walk around the train. As I walked into a dining car lit only by the moon, I spotted a young lady - the same lady from the Berlin train. My curiosity got the better of me.

"May I sit here?" I asked.

The woman smiled.

"Finally brave enough to ask what we're doing, huh?" she asked.

"You've seen me?"

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

I sat down, and she introduced herself as Wendy.

"So where are you going?" I asked.

She glanced out the window.

"Can I tell you a story?" she asked.

I nodded.

"So the Tsar has everything," she said, "Everything he could ever want, except one thing - _love_. The Tsarina hates him, his heir won't talk to him, he has no real attachment to anybody. So he decides that if he can't find somebody who loves him, he'll build somebody."

I gasped.

"A robot," I said, "Isn't that illegal?"

"Not if you're the Tsar."

She chuckles hollowly.

"So he invites a genius to St. Petersburg," she said, "The foremost mechanical genius in the United States. He offers him everything if he'll make him a woman that will love him."

"And he does it?" I asked.

"It's the greatest technological marvel ever seen," nodded Wendy, "But this doctor is about to program this robot, something stops him. He can't give the gift of life to this creation, and then force her to love somebody against her will."

"So what does he do?"

"He flees," replied Wendy, "Packs up, sneaks onto a container ship and runs across the Atlantic with his robot. And thirty years pass."

I thought about it. Thirty years ago had been about the time the current Tsar had been crowned - when he was still a handsome, middle-aged man, whom pundits had hoped would liberalise the Russian Empire. How wrong they had been.

"So what is this robot doing now?" I asked.

"What would you do," asked Wendy, "If you knew the Kaiser and the Tsar would be meeting in one of the Tsar's palaces, and...let's say you had the layout of that palace downloaded into your mind. What would you do?"

I furrowed my brow.

"Those men have caused so much misery," I said, "So much suffering. There's a part of me that would want to...but it's irrelevant. I would never be in such a position."

Wendy smiled.

"Yes," she said, "But perhaps I will."

She got up from the table.

"Goodnight, man," she said, walking away.

I sat there for some time, mulling over the implications of what Wendy had told me. Suppose the story was true, and I had to admit it was farfetched, then I had information that could save the lives of the two most powerful men in Europe. All I had to do was alert the guard.

Eventually, I got up and retired to bed.

* * *

It was twilight of the next evening when we arrived.

Moscow was cold and dismal, although not quite as terrifyingly brutalist as Berlin. As the train pulled into Smolenskaya Station, I felt someone brush past me. I looked up - it was a policeman.

"Uh, officer?" I called.

The policeman turned.

"Da?"

There was a brief silence as we gazed at each other, and I finally made my decision.

"Do you have the time?"

"Six fifteen," replied the officer.

"Thank you."

The officer nodded and walked off down the corridor.

The train glided to a halt by the platform, and I waited by the door for the guard to open it. Presently he did so, and I stepped into the cold air outside. After hours stuffed inside the train, it felt good to be outside.

As I prepared to leave, I caught one final glimpse of Dr. Pines and Wendy. They were walking hurriedly up the platform, talking in hushed tones. Another man emerging from the train - another Englishman, in fact - snorted as he watched them go by.

"Bloody _transhumans_ ," he sniffed, "Taking things from proper humans, they is."

I shook my head. I had seen what 'proper humans' could do.

As she walked away, Wendy glanced back towards me. She smiled, and I returned the gesture. A wordless conversation was exchanged. I wished her luck.

There was a shrill steam whistle, and a cloud of steam covered the platform. When it disappeared, I found myself alone. I picked up my bag and walked away, my journey complete.

The rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

AN: This is very much inspired by an indie game called _80 Days_ , which I cannot recommend enough. It's on Steam and I think there's a tablet version too.


	18. 18 10 17: Dipper Goes To Tír na nÓg

Yes, the title is a reference to _that_ fic.

* * *

 **18/10/17: Dipper Goes To Tír na nÓg**

"He's done _what?!_ "

Ford paced the kitchen, clutching his head in anxiety.

"Yeah, he followed an elf home," replied Mabel, "He sent me to tell you he'd be back by dinner."

"He'd _better_ be," snapped Stan, "I'm doin' my special!"

"Ah, the Stanwich," nodded Soos, "It's a bacon sandwich, except the bread is _also_ bacon."

"It won't matter if he tries to be home by dinner," cried Ford, "The elves live in Tír na nÓg! It's a strange realm where time and the laws of physics work differently."

"Didn't we go there in _The Wolf and the Hounds_?" asked Stan.

"No, that's a different fanfiction canon, Grunkle Stan," said Mabel.

"Well, at least he's alone," sighed Ford, "If more than one human went into that world, I..."

Mabel coughed and shuffled her feet.

"Please tell me he's alone, Mabel."

"Uh...Wendy said she'd follow him to make sure he was okay," replied Mabel.

" _AAARGH!_ "

Ford punched the wall.

"Alright, follow me, we don't have much time," replied Ford, "Follow me."

Ford led Stan, Mabel and Soos to his secret elevator, pressing the button for his study.

"If Dipper and Wendy get to Tír na nÓg before we get there, there could be a serious problem," he explained, "Time works differently there. A minute in Tír na nÓg could be a century in our world - or vice versa! And that's without factoring in the dangers that exist in that world. It makes Gravity Falls look like Luxembourg."

The elevator dinged and the door opened. Ford led his companions into the study.

"Some years ago, I acquired a magic door from a man in another dimension," he explained.

"And what did he tell you?" asked Mabel.

* * *

 _"A magic door? Where's it lead?"_

 _"Eh, Tír na nÓg or some shit, I dunno. Ju-errp-st take it, I-I-I've been trying to offload this for weeks, Ford. I-I-It's unsettling Morty, Ford. I have to get rid of it."_

 _"Yeah, Ford, Rick's right, y'know, I-I-I can't sleep, there's weird howling and knocking..."_

 _"Okay, but time's different in Tír na nÓg. Wouldn't I just go in and immediately be trapped for decades?"_

 _"Yeah, that's why it's a_ magic door _. I-it synchronises y-your time, so that you're always...you're always operating in the same frame of time that you would be in your home dimension."_

 _"Yeah, Ford, you really should take this, i-it's really cool."_

 _"Yeah, you're being a...a real salesman Morty. You could be a real-real carpet salesman."_

 _"Aw jeez, really?"_

 _"_ No _."_

 _"Alright, if you insist, I'll take it. I'll see you around Rick."_

* * *

"...not important," replied Ford, "Point is, it's a magic door. It'll anchor our timelines so that we spend the same amount of time in Tír na nÓg as we would here."

He pulled aside a sheet and revealed the door to Tír na nÓg.

"Now, we need to move," said Ford, "Who knows what might already be happening to Dipper and Wendy! They could be tortured or-"

* * *

" _Seriously?!_ "

Ford, Mabel, Stan and Soos stood in the throne room of the King and Queen of Summer.

"It is as it seems," replied King Dipper, the elven king of summer, "We have sat upon these thrones for eighty thousand years."

"But we only entered this realm _eleven seconds after you!_ " spluttered Ford, "Even for Tír na nÓg, this is _ludicrous!_ "

"And yet it has happened," nodded Wendy, "I guess this is what we would call a _bummer_ , man."

"Hey, does being an elf mean you can't say contractions?" asked Mabel.

"...yes," said Dipper.

"That is also a real bummer," sighed Wendy.

"Well, I'm sure you've had fun being the undisputed monarchical rulers of the Court of Summer for eighty millennia, but you have to come home now," said Stan, "I'm cooking tonight, and..."

"My life in Gravity Falls was only zero point zero fifteen percent of my entire lifespan," interrupted Dipper, "I am far more the King of Summer than I am Dipper Pines."

"That, and we are soul-bonded for all eternity," added Wendy, "That is going to be difficult to explain to our parents."

"Alright," snapped Stan, "Give me one good reason why you're stinkin' Tír na nÓg is better than Earth?"

"We control all aspects of life in this kingdom," replied Wendy.

"Oh _la-dee-da_ , I'm _god_ , everybody look at me!" mocked Stan, "You know what you don't have? Vegas."

"Grandma says I'm banned from Vegas," said Soos.

"Why would we need Las Vegas," asked Dipper, "When we have infinite stocks of gold?"

The roof opened up and a massive pile of elven gold was dumped on the floor of the throne room.

"But it's just... _there!_ " exclaimed Stan, grabbing two fistfuls of gold, "There's no _chance!_ There's no _stakes!_ No _thrill,_ no _danger!_ "

"Stanley, I think we'll need to talk about your gambling at..."

"Shut up, Ford!" snapped Stan, "You know what else you don't have? The glamour! Look at this place! Sure, it doesn't follow the laws of physics, sure I could walk through a door and end up sharing a body with Soos..."

"What an honour that would be," said Soos.

"...but it's _sterile_. Yeah, I said it - _sterile_. Where's the lights? Where's the adrenaline?"

He shook his head and stepped towards the thrones.

"Yeah, you might be all-powerful here, or whatever," he snapped, "But you're ruling a dump!"

"You dare call the Kingdom of Summer a dump?" demanded Dipper.

Unbeknownst to Stan, vines began to wrap around the ankles of Mabel, Ford and Soos.

"Uh, Stanley," gulped Ford, "Please stop talking."

"Yeah, it's a dump!" shouted Stan, "You're sitting on top of a pile of _human sh-_ "

There was a flash of light.

"Stan!"

Stan turned around. Mabel was by vines from the roof - next to her, Ford and Soos had been turned into stone.

"... _oot._ "

"We can make it three," sneered Wendy, "Choose your next words carefully."

"Stan," wheezed Mabel, "Let me talk to them."

Stan glanced to Dipper and Wendy. They nodded, and the vines let Mabel down.

"Dipper, Wendy," she said, stepping up towards the thrones, "I know you've lived here for like a billionty-billion years now, but Earth is your home."

"But Tír na nÓg is perfect," said Dipper.

"Of _course_ it is," replied Mabel, "But that's the _problem_. If everything is always the best and most awesome possible thing, is it still worth being happy about? What do you have?"

"Massive amounts of gold, the Holy Grail, the Sword of Damocles..." began Wendy.

"Okay, those things are pretty cool," admitted Mabel, "But you know what I have? I have a pig. I have a massive collection of hand knitted sweaters. And Grunkle Stan has that retirement fund he talks about a lot."

"You haven't been mentioning that to the police, have you sweetie?" asked Stan nervously.

"And that _means_ stuff to us because we don't always have everything go right for us," explained Mabel, "Sure, not everything on Earth is good, but that just means the good things shine brighter."

Dipper and Wendy glanced at one another.

"So, when this is over, I'm gonna go home, and I'm gonna eat a piece of bacon wrapped in another piece of bacon and erroneously called a sandwich," said Mabel, "And I'm gonna love it, because it's delicious. But I'd love it even more if you came home with me."

She offered her hand.

"Because you're not the King of Summer, Dipper. You're my _brother_."

Dipper and Wendy looked at each other again. They nodded.

Then they slumped to the ground as two gigantic, demonic spirits emerged from their bodies.

"What in the H!" shouted Stan.

"Okay, demonic possession!" exclaimed Mabel, "Didn't expect that!"

" _Foolish mortals!_ " screamed the spirits, " _If I cannot have them as my puppets, I will have_ _ **you!**_ "

"Oh yeah?" snapped Stan, rolling up his sleeves, "We'll see about that!"

 _"I will feast on your demonic powers!"_ bellowed Mabel, leaping towards the demons.

* * *

[SCENE MISSING]

* * *

The Shack crew emerged from the magic door. Dipper and Wendy had magically transformed back into humans - they looked exhausted and a little bit shaken.

"I still remember eighty thousand years of being in Tír na nÓg, Ford," groaned Dipper.

"Eh, you'll live," shrugged Ford.

"So, who's up with Stanwiches?" asked Stan.

"Mr. Pines, I think I should probably go home," replied Wendy, "I haven't seen my family in eighty millennia and I can't remember their names or what they look like anymore."

"Ah, come on, Wendy!" said Soos, "We can take you back to Manly Dan afterwards!"

"Back to who?"

She shrugged.

"Ah well, Stanwiches it is," she said.

"Uh, one more problem, guys," said Dipper, "You think it was okay to let Mabel eat those demons?"

" **What're you talking about Dipper? I'm feeling fine!** "

"Mabel, your voice is echoing, you're hovering off the ground and reality is distorting around you," said Dipper.

" **Eh, I'll live. Let's go get Stanwiches!** "

"Don't worry, Dipper," chuckled Ford, "I'm sure it'll wear off."

* * *

ON THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF _GRAVITY FALLS..._

Pacifica knocked on the Shack door. She swallowed, quickly fixing her hair.

"Now remember, stay calm," she told herself, "She's your _friend_ , not a _demon_."

The door opened. Pacifica stared inside at the upside room in which eels floated around. Mabel hovered before her - she gazed into her eyes and saw herself reflected in infinite dimensions.

" **Hi Paz!** "

Behind her, Dipper floated by, frantically trying to grab onto something.

"Mabel, turn the gravity back on, _turn the gravity back on!_ "

Mabel shrugged as Pacifica gaped at the scene before her.

" **You get used to it.** "

* * *

AN: *insert laugh track here*


	19. 19 10 17: Cold War

In Soviet Russia, obvious joke tells you!

* * *

 **19/10/17: Cold War**

Vlad Masters had been riding high just a week ago. Like Icarus, his wings had now melted, and he was left to fall to the cold Earth.

It had all seemed so simple. The Party was sure to vote in favour of Malenkov, and he'd be all set for a comfortable, powerful job in the Defence Ministry. What he hadn't expected was that the Central Committee would support that dancing monkey Khrushchev and ruin them all. But that was what had happened, and the Premier had displayed a wicked pleasure in assigning interesting punishments to the plotters.

Malenkov was to become manager of a hydroelectric plant in Kazakhstan. Molotov was sent to become ambassador to Mongolia. Kaganovich had been to sent to direct a small salt works in the Urals. And Vlad? He was sent to oversee operations at a tiny training camp somewhere in Siberia.

He supposed he was lucky - a decade ago, he would have been shot. But perhaps Khrushchev had given him a punishment of more refined cruelty. He would have to rest of his life to languish in obscurity, his career ruined.

Oh well, he thought, it didn't matter now.

Vlad's car reached a checkpoint, and the driver stopped to show his papers. Vlad looked out the window.

This wasn't right.

For men guarding a marginal facility in the middle of nowhere, they were exceptionally well armed. They carried the brand new Kalashnikov-pattern rifles - many troops facing the West in Europe didn't have them yet. Behind them, dug in next to the checkpoint, was a brand new T-10 heavy tank. These tanks were supposed to be earmarked for troops in Germany.

The guards waved them through, and they drove into a tunnel.

They drove through the dark for some time. Eventually they emerged into light - sterile, artificial light of an underground parking lot. The driver parked quickly, before jumping out and opening the door for Vlad.

He stepped out, and found himself in front of a colonel.

"Director Masters!" he said, extending his arms, "No doubt you've realised that everything the Premier told you about this facility was a lie!"

"Yes," nodded Vlad, "I'm getting that impression."

* * *

"When the Americans exploded their atomic bomb, Comrade Stalin demanded that we produce a comparable weapon at the earliest opportunity. This was the result."

Vlad looked through a glass window at the massive portal before him. It was a swirling vortex of colour, standing against a concrete wall. The huge room was fortified - soldiers were emplaced behind sandbags, and machine guns were trained on the portal. It looked like they were expecting something to emerge at any moment.

"Our scientists opened a portal in time and space," explained the Colonel, "Monsters emerged - hundreds were killed before the facility could be reclaimed. The rift could not be sealed again - so we now we stand guard."

"What happens if the facility is breached?" asked Vlad.

"Siberia could be overrun," replied the colonel, "And more would emerge. They would multiply, perhaps indefinitely. It would be an unspeakable disaster."

"But they're just monsters, right?"

"Initially," replied the colonel, "But things soon changed. The things that emerge from that hole are getting... _smarter._ I..."

A klaxon wailed, and the vortex began to pulse.

"... _chyort_ , I was hoping we'd have more time," snapped the Colonel, "Oh well, I suppose you'll get a proper demonstration."

He picked up a telephone on the wall in front of him.

"Condition Yellow, prepare for rift crossing."

The soldiers in front of the portal readied themselves. Rifles and machine guns were trained on the rift.

"So, what can we expect to..." began Vlad.

Without fanfare, a monster burst from the rift.

It was a tall as three men, and as wide as a tank. It was recognisably humanoid, but it had no eyes - only a gaping maw. It's entire body was covered by a hard carapace. It roared, and charged towards the soldiers who were now opening fire.

Their bullets had no effect, and the monster slammed through the sandbags of the soldiers in front. It grabbed a man and tore him in two, before swinging its enormous arm down at his two companions, crushing them in a single blow. Vlad winced as it moved onto the next position, and then the next.

"My god, they're getting wiped out," he breathed.

"Seal the chamber!" the Colonel shouted into the phone, "Don't let it out!"

"But there's still men in there!" exclaimed Vlad.

"Only dead men," replied the Colonel grimly.

" _Doors are sealed, Colonel!_ "

The men inside the chamber had broken and run, save for a couple of machine gunners. The gun nest was quickly jumped by the monster - it sent one man flying into the wall with its fist before grabbing the other, lifting him into its mouth and biting most of his upper torso off.

"Send in one of the _krestonostsy!_ " bellowed the Colonel.

" _Da, Colonel. Crusader deploying now._ "

As the monster charged towards the last soldiers, clawing desperately at the sealed door, a panel in the floor opened. In a flash, a figure emerged. Vlad's jaw dropped.

It was clad in red armour, the chest-plate marked with a yellow star. It's head was clad in a face-concealing helmet - it was lithe and clearly agile. A small jetpack was attached to the back. It carried no immediately obvious weapon.

The monster grabbed the last surviving soldiers with both hands and slammed them into the ground, killing both instantly. It then turned, taking in the newcomer.

"What is that?" asked Vlad.

"Crusader," replied the Colonel.

The Crusader raised an arm as the monster began to charge it - a tube emerged from the wrist and began to fire heavy rounds at the enemy. They hit the monster with great force, and some of the carapace was torn off, revealing a fleshy skin beneath.

The monster barely slowed, but as it reached the Crusader, the armoured figure rocketed upwards, flipping over and landing on its back. It grabbed the monster by the sides of its maw and pulled - the jetpacks activated again.

With a sickening crunch, the monster's head came clean off, lifting into the air with the Crusader. The figure threw it away as the monster swung blindly upwards - perhaps its brain was not in its head, or perhaps this was simply rigor mortis.

In the end, it didn't matter. The Crusader extended its other arm and a rocket burst from its wrist. It hit the monster in the gaping wound where its head had been, burrowed into the flesh for half a second and then exploded, sending blood and organs all over the chamber. Some of it splattered against the window - Vlad gagged.

" _Chamber is clear! I say again, chamber is clear_ ," the voice at the other end of the Colonel's phone declared.

"Thank you, Major - get somebody to clean that up and send the second platoon to take over the watch," replied the Colonel.

" _Da tovarish_."

"Which Crusader was that, Major?"

" _Fenton, Colonel, Daniel Fenton._ "

"Good, double his rations for the night. Dismissed."

He hung up the phone and turned to Vlad.

"Well," he said, "That's what we do here. You'll be tasked with organising everything, of course."

"What happened to the old director, Colonel?" asked Vlad.

The Colonel chuckled.

"I couldn't possibly tell you that," he said, "You wouldn't eat dinner tonight!"

He patted Vlad's shoulder.

"Well, I'll have somebody show you to your desk," he said, "I'll see you at dinner tonight - we'll talk more then."

He walked away without another word.

Vlad glanced at the bloody chamber. More men were emerging to take up the positions of their unfortunate comrades - another group in hazmat suits were starting to gather up the gore left behind by the fighting. The Crusader - Danny Fenton, apparently - was talking to one of them, shaking his head as he did so.

Vlad swallowed.

Quite frankly, he'd rather have just been shot.

* * *

AN: *wordlessly puts the Soviet March from Red Alert on.*


	20. 20 10 17: A Sunday Drive Down Fury Road

All driving in Australia is like this.

* * *

 **20/10/17: A** **Sunday Drive Down Fury Road**

It was a dry, hot and desolate place. Ahead, the cracked road stretched into oblivion, the waves of heat making it look as though it was melting into the sky. The unforgiving sun blared in the cloudless sky. This was a place without civilisation, unforgiving and without mercy.

"Blimey, the Hume Highway is depressing," I said.

We were driving south towards Melbourne, having crossed the Victorian border and the Murray River at Albury. I needed to purchase a new graphics card for my computer, which required getting one from a major city - and since the only other option was Sydney, that meant it was off to Melbourne.

Of course, I was not alone (me being the terrible sort of person that insists on making an adventure out of the most minor of activities). Spongebob sat in the passenger seat of the car, while Sandy, Timmy and Dib crowded the back seat. The vehicle was old, ancient even - a 1929 Rolls-Royce Phantom that I had found in a back alley with the key in the ignition. (Note: it's not stealing if they leave the key in, I swear.)

"Can we stop soon?" asked Dib, "My legs are cramping."

"I told you, I'm banned from every settlement until Seymour," I replied, "So we'll need to wait...about two hours."

Dib buried his head in his hands.

"Hey, if we have fun, that time will just _fly_ by!" I exclaimed, pressing a button on the CD player (having that thing put in probably ruined the vehicle's value, but such is life), "Let's sing something, shall we?"

"No," Sandy, Timmy and Dib all chorused.

"Too bad, I'm driving," I shrugged.

A song immediately came on. I grinned, closed my eyes and began to sing.

" _...and I say HEEEeeeEEEEEEY YEEEEaaaAAAaaaHHHHH YEeeeEEEaaaaaHHHHHH EEEEEeHH-eeeHHHH, HEEEEEEEeeeYYYYYY YEEEAaaaAAH YEEEEEeeeh, I said HEY...WHAT'S GOING ON?!_ "

"Oh, _why?_ " groaned Timmy.

" _and I say HEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEYYYYY YEEEaaaAAAHHHhhhHHH YE-_ "

Sandy reached into the front, ejected the disk from the CD player and hurled it out the window.

"Oh."

As I began to sulk, I began to realise there was still music in the air.

"What is that?" asked Spongebob.

"I dunno," I mused, "I think I recognise the song..."

 _...Whoooa-oh-oh-oh he's a working class man..._

"Oh no."

My eyes widened and I clutched the steering wheel.

"What is it?" demanded Dib.

"It's Jimmy Barnes," I said, "That can only mean one thing."

I looked in the rear-view mirror and my eyes narrowed.

" _Yobbo Pirates._ "

Behind us was an approaching mass of rusty old utes. Each one was covered in bumper stickers, and each carried about four white men with mullets and singlets in the trays. The men each carried a bottle of 'VB', a strange elixir I had never sampled but was once told tasted like human urine.

The lead ute sped up and began to drive alongside us. It was a threatening contraption, even rustier than the others. A Eureka flag flew from the roof, and the tray was filled with boxes and boxes of homebrew moonshine. A sticker labelled 'Shooters and Fishers Party' was stuck to the door.

The driver of the ute rolled down his window. He possessed the largest beard I had ever seen on a man who was not Santa Claus.

"Um...good morning, gentlemen," I said nervously.

"I'm Bazza," he said, "Back there are Derek the Drongo, the Livernicker, Bob Menzies, and some other yobs I can't remember."

"Why don't you have a nickname?" asked Dib.

There was a long silence.

"Just giz' uz yer beer," snapped Bazza.

"I don't drink," I replied.

There was a long silence. Bazza seemed unable to comprehend what I had just said, but it slowly dawned on him.

Slowly, he drew a gun.

"You bloody un-Australian ratbag," he snarled, "Prepare to _die._ "

"Now that's just over-escalating the situation," I replied, "We can discuss-"

He opened fire.

"...or maybe we can just run!"

I floored it, accelerating ahead of the utes. They followed in hot pursuit, the yobbos putting away their VBs and taking out rifles and machine guns.

"Spongebob!" I yelled, "Open the glove box!"

"What's in there?" Spongebob yelled back.

" _Guns!_ "

Spongebob swallowed and opened the glove box.

"Good!" I yelled, "Give me the Anti-Magic Tommy Gun and then take the wheel."

" _What?_ "

"Just do it!"

Spongebob handed me the Tommy Gun and I climbed out the window, standing on the roof. I aimed the weapon at the yobbo pirates and fired - the rearmost ute span out of control and rocketed off the road, exploding in a fireball of beer and lamb meat.

"Got one!" I shouted, "I think...he might have just been drunk..."

"Board 'em lads!" thundered Bazza.

One of the utes slammed into the side of my car, and three yobbo pirates leapt out, jumping onto the roof. Sandy and Dib climbed out to help fight them off.

"Finally!" exclaimed Dib, "My chance to prove myself as an expert fighter! Come at me, boys! I can take it! I can _AAAHHHHHHHHH!_ "

A yobbo had backhanded him from the roof, sending him flying into the roadside grass.

"Man down, man down!" I shouted.

"Don't worry," said Sandy, cracking her knuckles, "I've got this."

She raced forward, head-butting the yobbo that had hit Dib and sending him flying off the back. She quickly followed it up with a swinging low kick into his comrades, tripping them up. Then she ran and leapt from the roof into the tray of another ute, engaging the men in there.

Two more utes burst out in front of us. Bob Menzies stood in the back of one of them, hip-firing a Bren Gun. He wore a grey suit and Union Jack-patterned bootstraps.

"Ute to the front!" shouted Timmy.

"Timmy, radio!" I called back, firing back at Menzies.

Timmy nodded, grabbing a radio from the dashboard.

"This is Phantom One, requesting backup!"

" _Roger, riding in now._ "

A Huey helicopter suddenly burst out from behind a hill. It fired a salvo of rockets, destroying the ute next to Menzies' vehicle. Then it hovered above him - the door swung open.

Stevonnie leapt from the chopper, landing shield-first on the tray of the ute. They swung their shield into the man behind Menzies, knocking him down and sending his gun flying. They were quickly followed by Wendy and Stan - Wendy quickly got stuck into a fist-fight with the Bren loader while Stan grabbed Menzies by the collar.

"Prepare to go all the way with LBJ!" shouted Stan, " _To Hell!_ "

"But that's a Harold Holt quote!" exclaimed Menzies.

"...who the heck cares?" sighed Stan, decking him.

Another ute pulled up next to them - Derek the Drongo stood in the back, holding up a cricket bat.

"Alright, you dropkicks, you're dealin' with me now," he snarled.

"Am I supposed to be scared?" asked Wendy.

"You talking to me like that?" shouted Derek, "I'll cut you open, you mad-"

Wendy jumped over to his ute and slammed him over the head with the flat of her axe. As he fell, he snatched his cricket bat and hurled it into the gut of one of his henchmen. She proceeded to roundhouse kick a third before turning to the last one in the tray.

"Abandon ship, _abandon ship!_ " he screamed, leaping overboard.

There was the sound of skidding tyres as the Livernicker came alongside the car. He leaned out the window, holding a pistol at me.

"D'ya think th' suit makes ya look good or something?" he sneered.

" _Manners maketh man_ ," I replied.

I fired into his tyre and he skidded off the road. The ute rolled over and exploded for absolutely no reason.

"...that felt so cool," I whispered to myself.

Bazza snarled, clutching his steering wheel.

"That's it!" he thundered, "Dougo! Raise the spirit of the nation!"

A mulleted priest in a wifebeater standing in the tray of his ute began to pray.

"In the name of the Don and of Phar Lap, and of Warno and Thorpie, I call upon ye, O patron of the yobbo, smite our foes and keep us in the beer."

He extended his arms.

"Arise, O Ned!"

From the bush at the side of the road, a great monolith of steel and corrugated iron rose from the soil. It resembled a man in a longcoat carrying two revolvers - but its head was covered with a tall, bucket-like helmet with a slit over the eyes, and under the coat it was clad in body armour.

"Mother of god!" I exclaimed, "It's _Ned Kelly!_ "

Ned Kelly raised one of his revolvers and fired at the helicopter. The tail burst into flames and it began to spin out. Two figures leapt out, landing in the same ute as Stan (which he had now hijacked completely). A second later, the Huey exploded.

"Kids!" exclaimed Stan.

"We're fine!" said Dipper, "But the nameless pilot died!"

"He gave his life so that significant characters could live," said Stan gravely.

"But what do we do about Ned?" asked Stevonnie.

I looked up and snapped my fingers.

"Mabel! Do you have your grappling hook?" I called.

"Yeah!"

"Good!" I yelled, "Timmy, there's a rope in the glove box!"

Timmy jumped into the front seat and grabbed the reel of rope, throwing it up to me. I doubled back to the back of the car, tying the end of the rope to the trailer hook. I ran back up and threw the rest of the rope to Mabel.

"Grapple up to his shoulder and tie this around his neck!" I shouted.

"Isn't that a bit dark?" asked Dipper.

"It's his only weakness!" I replied, "Stevonnie, district him!"

"Got it!"

Stevonnie leapt into the air, sword held high. They landed on top of Ned's left gun and swung the sword down, slicing the barrel off. They quickly leapt over to the other one to follow up on the attack.

As they did so, Mabel grappled up to Ned's shoulder. She swung around the steel giant's neck and tied the rope tightly around it. As Ned swatted upwards with his arm, she fired her grappling gun back at Stan's ute and jumped.

"Floor it!" I bellowed.

"Floor it!" repeated Spongebob, flooring the accelerator.

The car shot forward, racing past Ned and up the open door. With a mighty tug, it pulled at Ned - there was a crunching noise as his head was torn clean off, falling to the ground. With a mournful groan, the giant statue collapsed to the ground, blocking the road behind us - and landing right in front of the yobbo pirates.

" _STREWTH!_ " bellowed Bazza, bracing himself.

The utes slammed into Ned Kelly's metal corpse. Suddenly there was an enormous fireball behind us that shook the ground - it was like something out of a Michael Bay film, but slightly better written.

The car slowed down to normal speed, drawing up alongside Stan's ute. In a flash, both Stevonnie and Sandy jumped onto it.

"Well, see you guys in Melbourne!" called Wendy.

"Yep!" I nodded, waving back, thanks for the assist!

I mopped my brow as everyone climbed back into the car, me taking the driver's seat back from Spongebob.

"Well," I said, "That went well."

"Dozens of people probably died," grunted Timmy.

"Eh, they're probably okay," I shrugged.

There was a long silence.

"I do feel bad about Ned Kelly, though," said Stevonnie.

"Everyone does," I replied, "It's half of all Australian culture to feel bad for him. Almost makes you forget he shot a bunch of people."

I sighed and shook my head.

"Poor Ned, eh?"

"If this is an excuse to put on another song, I swear..." began Sandy.

"Sorry, already happening," I said, turning the radio on.

"Darn you."

"Darn me indeed."

And with that, we drove off into the wild blue yonder.

 _Poor Ned,  
You're better off dead,  
At least you'll get some peace of mind,  
You're out on the track,  
They're right on your back,  
Boy they're gonna hang you high._

* * *

AN: Gaz-fic on Sunday, incidentally.


	21. 21 10 17: The Diamond Contingency

Remember that crackfic I wrote for 100 Words a Day? The one about Steven and Connie becoming Diamonds?

I actually wrote the first few pages of an extended story. Yes.

Let's call this testing the waters...

* * *

 **21/10/17: The Diamond Contingency**

The Gem Empire was the most colossal ever to exist in recorded history.

At its height, it had settled over a thousand planets and was extracting resources from a thousand more. There was the sheer opulence of Homeworld (at least on the surface), the blighted wastelands of the Kindergarten worlds, the polluted industrial hives, the beautiful and magnificent garden worlds set aside for the elite, and just about everything in-between. All of this was policed by a colossal navy, a professional and highly trained army, and a rigid caste system that ensured every gem knew her place. To rule this vast, cosmic empire was to possess power beyond imagining.

And yet, despite its strength and opulence, this empire was dying.

The Resource Crisis was an open secret. Homeworld had nothing left to extract - beneath its shining cities was a withered husk. They could have claimed the resources they needed from the wider empire, but there were never enough ships, and never enough gems to crew them. Perhaps these ships and gems could have been built, but the imperial leadership was in chaos. Blue Diamond had almost completely withdrawn from her duties after the demise of Pink Diamond. Yellow Diamond, for all the cold professionalism she displayed in public, was consumed with rage and a lust for revenge.

This left the empire in the hands of White Diamond.

Few had laid eyes on White Diamond - to meet her in person was the highest of privileges - or for an enemy of the state, the deepest of fears. For five thousand years, she had effectively _been_ the state. She ran day-to-day affairs on Homeworld (albeit through an enormous bureaucracy), handled the Resource Crisis and tried the navigate the ship of state through the treacherous waters of the present time. Even for a being as powerful as White Diamond, this was too much.

The crisis, she realised, needed all hands - Blue, Yellow and Pink.

Since one of them was _dead_ , this was going to be easier said than done.

White Diamond wasn't worried. With an industrial base large enough, and with effective coordination, she figured she could build just about anything. You wanted a gem? Build a kindergarten. You wanted a Diamond? Build a _bigger_ kindergarten. And it would definitely be worth the cost - in the end, the Great Diamond Authority would be whole again; provided it was delicately handled. Blue and Yellow would rally around the newcomer, and they could solve the crisis together.

White Diamond wasn't stupid, of course; she knew that there were a lot of ways this could go wrong. She had had the risks studied and calculated. But what other choice was there? Watch the empire collapse? Inconceivable.

And so, after a hundred years of planning, she was ready to begin. She'd headhunted the finest gems to handle the project and picked what she believed was the perfect world.

This planet had no name - it was designated Planetary Body 2E42G. It was a 'garden world' that orbited a star that the empire had seen no need to name.

Four light-years away, on the planet Earth, they called this star Alpha Centauri A.

* * *

Early one morning, just before the sun rose, Alpha Centauri A was observed to flash.

It was almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but for a few short seconds, the star seemed to turn first blue, then yellow. Most didn't notice it - most of those who did didn't think too much of it.

But for Garnet, observing it from the beach outside the temple, it could only mean calamity. It called for an official Crystal Gem Meeting.

Thus, Steven found himself sitting on his couch early in the morning with Pearl, Amethyst, Peridot and Greg, watching Garnet pace over the wooden floor. Occasionally, she glanced at the clock and then to the door.

"This is supposed to be _urgent_ ," grunted Peridot, "Can someone tell me why we're waiting?"

"We need all hands on deck for this," replied Garnet.

"All hands on what?"

"Human expression," replied Garnet.

Suddenly there came the sound of warping outside and the roar of a lion. A few seconds later, the door flew open as Connie ran inside.

"Sorry I'm late!" she said, "My parents needed to know where I was going."

Garnet nodded as she sat down next to Steven.

"Alright, Gems...and Greg," she said, "We have a serious problem."

"How serious are we talking about?" asked Pearl, "On a one to ten scale?"

"There was a flash in the sky this morning," replied Garnet, "A star that glowed blue and yellow."

"The Diamonds," whispered Steven.

"Yes," nodded Garnet, "And last time we saw something like that..."

"...the Diamonds let loose their corruption song," finished Pearl, "Is it like that?"

"I don't think so," replied Garnet, "It seemed too far away. But we're gonna have to _check_. We need to go to that star and find out what they're up to."

"Woo! Space trip!" exclaimed Steven, raising his arms, "I'll go get Lars! I..."

"Wait, we can't just walk on up to the Diamonds!" exclaimed Peridot, "They're the _Diamonds!_ "

"No," nodded Garnet, "This is going to be a stealth mission."

She crossed her arms.

"Alright, Gems," she said, "This is the plan..."

* * *

AN: That's what I've got. Perhaps we'll see more, I don't know.


	22. 22 10 17: Karma Punishment

I am very sorry about the Gamergate joke.

* * *

 **22/10/17: Actually It's About Ethics In Karma Punishment**

 _An Arcade, Somewhere. Today (I Guess)._

Gaz Membrane sat in the middle of the arcade, a chalk circle drawn around her and a sign reading 'DISTURB AT OWN PERIL' standing next to her. Everybody else was giving her a decidedly wide berth, as interrupting Gaz's gaming session was-

 _Presented at E3 for a holiday release; Ms. Gaz Membrane, a gamer extraordinaire with a mean streak a mile wide. In a few minutes, Ms. Membrane is going to be offered a chance to control the world around her from the comfort of a console. But she'll soon discover that you can't really control what happens when you insert a coin to play -_ _ **The Karma Circle.**_

-not good for one's health. It was...

Hang on, was that Rod Serling?

Oh, never mind. Anyway, the point is, Gaz Membrane was sitting in this exclusion zone, playing a handheld game. She sighed and turned it off, getting up.

"Right, I'm bored now," she declared.

"Then perhaps I could interest you in a more... _exciting_ game."

Gaz looked up. A wild-haired man in a lab coat and comically large goggles walked up to her, hands behind his back.

"Who the heck are you?" demanded Gaz.

"My name is not important," replied the man.

"Hey Dave," said an arcade employee, walking by.

"Hello," nodded the man, "Anyway, I have for you a strange and wondrous contraption that you should find _very interesting_."

"...and where is it?" demanded Gaz.

"Follow me to my creepy mansion and you will find out..."

* * *

"Hey, Spongebob?" asked Sandy, as the two walked towards the Krusty Krab.

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me, or is Danny acting mighty strange today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I called him earlier," replied Sandy, "He picked up the phone, talked for a moment, screamed about how he was losing control and then hung up."

"Maybe he's having an episode," shrugged Spongebob, "Patrick does that some..."

They stopped.

The windows of the Krusty Krab were all broken. The police had surrounded the building, and an officer was talking to a distraught Mr. Krabs.

"Oh, it's terrible!" exclaimed Mr. Krabs, "They took everything! _Everything!_ "

He scratched the back of his head.

"Well, not the _money_ ," he admitted, "Otherwise I would've _died_ , but they took everything else! The patties! The condiments! The _fries!_ You can get those anywhere, officer, why did they want ours! And the worst thing... _THEY TOOK ME SECRET FORMULA!_ "

Mr. Krabs burst into tears. Spongebob gasped and ran up to him.

"The formula's gone?!" exclaimed Spongebob, "Did Plankton do it?!"

"Hey, for once, I'm innocent," shrugged Plankton, walking past.

"It was worse than that," replied Mr. Krabs, "It was people we trusted, boy! That Phantom kid, the robot, the big-headed kid, a couple of other people whose names I don't remember! We were duped, me boy, _duped!_ "

"...yeah, I got it."

All eyes fell on one of the cops.

"Officer Nancy?" asked the cop questioning Mr. Krabs.

"We got a report from Amity Park," replied the other cop, putting down the radio, "Every fast food restaurant in town's been turned upside down. They found a message written in Nasty Sauce over 'Third Degree' Burns' body."

"They _killed_ a guy?" exclaimed Sandy.

"No, he's just in the fetal position," replied Officer Nancy.

"What's it say?" asked the other cop.

"Hold on, they're sending a picture now."

Officer Nancy looked at her phone.

"It reads...'HELP...ME...I AM BEING CONTROLLED BY GAZ WHO IS IN A CREEPY MANSION AT THE END OF HARTMAN AVE IN DIMMSDALE AND GOT SOME KIND OF MIND CONTROL DEVICE FROM SOME GUY NAMED DAVE SEND HELP ASAP THANKS A BUNCH GUYS.'"

"Wow," nodded the other cop, "That was thoughtful of him."

"I'll reckon they're the same burglars that turned over the Krusty Krab," said Sandy.

"Don't worry, Mr. Krabs," Spongebob said with determination, "Sandy, Squidward and I..."

"Pass," grunted Squidward, walking out of the Krusty Krab and off down the street.

"Uh... _Sandy_ and I are gonna get that formula back," finished Spongebob, "And teach Gaz a little lesson about mind controlling people."

"Won't you need protection from the mind control?" asked Mr. Krabs.

"Don't worry," replied Sandy, "I've got an idea..."

* * *

"You want me to do what? ...oh, I see, yeah. Don't worry, you've found your guy..."

* * *

Gaz sat in the foyer of Dave's mansion, being waited upon by mind-controlled slaves and surrounded by piles and piles of stolen junk food. She was holding a handheld console that greatly resembled a Game Boy Colour, which was attached by a cord to a helmet over her eyes and ears. Her undivided attention was upon the screen - she was in deep concentration.

" _Attention jerkward!_ "

Gaz' head jerked up.

"Who said that?" she demanded.

" _Come outside if you want a real challenge!_ "

Gaz clenched her fists as she walked to the door.

Timmy Turner stood on the pavement on the other side of the mansion's large front yard, holding his own handheld. Dib stood next to him, wearing an old army helmet and earplugs - a makeshift protection against the mind control device.

"I got my own reality-bending game," said Timmy, grinning confidentially, "And it could be yours...if you can beat me."

"What if I just take it?" demanded Gaz.

"Good question," nodded Dib, "If your _thralls_ can get over here and take it, you can have it. But I'd really recommend you _didn't..._ "

Gaz's expression darkened.

"Take that game," she growled, "And then bring me Dib so I can beat him."

Danny phased into view next to her. He shot forward, rushing towards the two boys.

"Game on!" shouted Timmy, slamming his finger on the button.

There was a flash of light - when it receded, a massive armoured figure stood in front of Timmy. It thrust its arm up and fired a blast at Danny, who just managed to dodge out of the way."

"Oh! Dramatic opening move from Team Timmy!"

Chester and AJ were sitting on the manor hedge, dressed in suits and commentating on the battle.

"That's right, Chester," nodded AJ, "Timmy's counting a strong opening from Gaz by summoning Samus Aran to the field! Looks like nobody's holding back here!"

Gaz snarled, tapping swiftly on the buttons on her console. Danny got back to his feet and charged an ectoblast, firing it towards Samus. She rolled into a ball, avoiding the blast and speeding into Danny, knocking him backwards through the wooden walls of the mansion.

"Useless," grunted Gaz, pressing another button.

With a roar of rockets, Jenny appeared from above the roof, firing a salvo of rockets down at Samus, who just barely dodged out of the way. The bounty hunter landed on her face (or more accurately, the face of the helmet) - dust filled the air, obscuring her from view.

" _Ooh!_ Gaz counters with Jenny Wakeman and a _prodigious_ salvo of rockets!" winced AJ.

"I'm gonna just pretend you didn't just sound like that one kid from Digimon and just say that that looked painful," nodded Chester.

Gaz smirked as she watched the smoke clear.

She stopped smirking as a blue ball soared out from the smoke, zipping into the air before slamming straight down onto Jenny and hurling her down into the lawn with a huge crash. Inexplicably, a series of gold rings burst out of the ground as she hit it.

The blue ball bounced into the air and turned into the form of a hedgehog.

"Looks like Timmy's sticking to the classics by calling on Sonic!" said AJ.

"Let's hope it's classic Sonic and not 3D Sonic," added Chester.

"Certainly don't want a Sonic Boom situation around here," agreed AJ.

Jenny narrowed her eyes and burst out of the crater, grabbing Sonic by the leg and soaring up into the air.

"Oh, looks like that's gonna be painful," noted Chester.

"Meanwhile, looks like Danny's back in the fight," said AJ, "He and Samus have charged each other - they're grappling but _what is this?!_ "

Garnet leapt through the wall of the mansion, leaping down towards Samus.

"It's a surprise Garnet!" exclaimed Chester, "That is not something you want to be on the other side of!"

"He's talking from personal experience," added AJ.

Garnet slammed down on Samus with her gauntlets, sending both her and Danny flying with the shockwave. (Clearly Gaz didn't care about her own side getting hurt). With the bounty hunter winded, the fusion charged towards Timmy, but the last second she was blocked.

"Timmy's upping the ante here!" exclaimed AJ, "It's _Bowser!_ "

"Yes, and while he beats down Garnet, I'm gonna look up what 'ante' means," said Chester.

Bowser roared, breathing fire right into Garnet's face. She covered her face with her arms at the last second - Bowser followed by jumping into the air and slamming down on the ground, sending her flying.

"Alright," growled Gaz, "You're making me mad."

She slammed her finger on another button.

The walls above her broke apart as three figures jumped onto the lawn. Grunkle Stan slipped on his brass knuckles - behind him, Ember clutched her guitar, while Jorgen von Strangle flexed his muscles.

"Oh, that is not fair!" said AJ, "Gaz calls in Stan Pines, Ember McLain and Jorgen von Strangle all at the same time!"

"That's just not sportsmanship, AJ," Chester nodded sadly.

"Not that mind control was sportsmanlike to begin with," admitted AJ.

Stan charged, fists raised, as Ember fired a blast at Bowser. The giant koopa was blown across the street, clearing the path for the elderly man.

There was a flash of light, and Stan skidded to a halt in front of a boxer. Before he could do anything, he was swiftly socked in the jaw and knocked onto his back.

"Timmy saves himself with a counter by Glass Joe!" said Chester.

Ember flew up into the air, aiming her guitar at Timmy and Dib. Just as she was about to strum, a woman blinked into existence next to her and fired a few shots at her. Ember winced as she was thrown back to the ground - the woman chuckled and winked, then seemed to phase rapidly to the ground, where she continued to fire on the rocker ghost.

"And there's another good move by summoning Tracer, that's always a good idea," nodded AJ, "She's my main, y'know."

Jorgen roared, raising his wand. Just as he was about to shoot a beam, there was a flash of light and he felt the barrel of a shotgun on his back.

"Drop the wand, bosh'tet."

"Yes, tiny alien woman," Jorgen replied meekly.

"And looks like Tali makes six on Timmy's team!" said Chester, "Looks like Timmy's regained the initiative! What could stop him now? Who could stop him-"

 _Punch._

The fighting abruptly stopped as all eyes fell on the mansion gate.

In the confusion, it seemed that Gaz had simply decided to walk down the lawn and punch Timmy in the face. She was now holding the handheld, a self-confident grin on her face.

"Oh, that is _dirty!_ " exclaimed AJ, "I mean, you'd expect that from Vicky, but _here?_ I'm disappointed, ladies and gentlemen, really dis-"

" **Shut up,** " snarled Gaz.

AJ swallowed and shut up.

Gaz turned to her brother (she had actually straight-up knocked Timmy unconscious), holding the handheld in triumph.

"Any last words before I pummel you?" she demanded.

"Yeah, ju-just this," replied Dib, "That's just Timmy's Dad's SNES. You know that, right?"

Gaz looked down at the handheld. The faded words 'Super Nintendo Entertainment System' could be read on the plastic surface.

"We've just been summoning people with my headset," explained Dib, pointing to his head, "You've been _fooled_ , Gaz."

In a fit of rage, Gaz slammed the SNES to the pavement, breaking it into pieces.

* * *

Mr. Turner sat at his desk when a terrible vision struck him.

"My...my SNES!" he breathed.

"Hey, Turner," said his boss, walking into the office, "I'm gonna need you to sharpen..."

" ** _NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_** "

"Alright, geez, I'll ask someone else!"

* * *

Gaz grabbed Dib by the collar.

"You wasted my time," she snarled, "You wasted my _energy_. I'm going to send you into a living nightmare from which you will _never_ wake..."

"Spongebob, now!"

There was a mighty crash as a screaming Spongebob slammed a metal pipe into Gaz's helmet. A buzzing filled the air as Gaz writhed in place, as though struck by lightning.

"Uh, Spongebob," said Sandy, walking up behind him, "You were only supposed to take the helmet off."

"Sorry," replied Spongebob, "I got carried away."

Gaz stopped writhing, standing perfectly still. Not a single muscle moved. Around her, her mind-controlled thralls were rubbing their heads and looking around, confused but freed.

"Uh...Gaz?" asked Dib, "Are you okay?"

Her console made a sound that was suspicious similar to the Windows XP start-up jingle.

"Program_ restarted," replied Gaz, her voice completely monotone, "WARNING. System has recovered from critical hard drive failure. Data may have been lost."

"Uh...I...this is not good," swallowed Dib.

"System recovery failed. Files irrecoverable. Awaiting user input."

"Well, looks like I'm going to ask Dad to fix her next time he's home," sighed Dib, "Which...really, that could be weeks."

"Well," said Danny, walking over and dusting off his hands, "In the meantime...what do they say about turnabout?"

"It's fair play," nodded Jenny.

"What, are you saying we use her as a servant to wait on us until she's fixed?" demanded Dib, "But that's wrong! It's fundamentally immoral! It's..."

* * *

"...like this game series has really gone downhill. I mean, did they even have a QA department?" asked Dib.

He was sitting with his friends, old and new, in the foyer of the mansion, playing a game with Timmy.

"They rushed it for Christmas," replied Timmy, "But at least it's _funny_ broken."

"Speakin' of 'funny broken'," said Sandy, "Hey Gaz! Can I get some ranch sauce for this Krabby Patty?"

"Acknowledged."

Gaz walked robotically into the room, wearing an apron and carrying a bottle of ranch sauce. Sandy grinned and took it, taking off the bun and squeezing it onto the burger.

"I don't know," mused Spongebob, "Feels like that messes with the equilibrium of the Krabby Patty."

"You gotta try new things, Spongebob, you gotta try new things."

"Amethyst would love one of these," mused Garnet, looking at her own Krabby Patty.

"Well then take her one!" replied Spongebob cheerfully, "I'll pay Mr. Krabs for it..."

 _Those who seek control of others will inevitably find themselves destroyed by their own demons. In their lust to control the fate of the people around them, they lose control of their own. What goes around, comes around. Sooner or later, they will run out of quarters, and the game will over in the small, dingy arcade they call -_ _ **The Karma Circle**_ _._

"...hey. Hey Dib, dude. _Gotta go fast._ "

" _IT WON'T LET ME GO FAST._ "

* * *

AN: dahnahnahnah dahnahnahnah dahnahnahnah...


	23. 23 10 17: House of Cards

Yes, the reference is intentional.

* * *

 **23/10/17: House of Cards**

 _In the end, politics is simply a game._

 _The players play their parts, each seeking that final goal of ultimate power. They are the minority, of course - most are simply the pieces, although they would never believe that themselves. They are to be moved and shuffled and eventually discarded as their betters see fit._

 _Take President Henry Edward Fulton, for instance. The man hasn't had an original thought in his life, but he claims to be the most powerful man on Earth._

 _Weak fool._

* * *

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, settle down!"

President Fulton stood up as the generals and politicians argued around the table in the Pentagon's War Room. All fell quiet as they regarded the Commander in Chief.

It was a bad day, and was only getting worse. In the early hours of the morning, Fort Leavenworth had been attacked. Twenty men were killed, scores were injured, and the assailants had made off with one of the most dangerous men in the world - General Armin Rausseman. The response by the government had been swift - they'd gone right up to DEFCON 3 and were now meeting to discuss the best possible response to the incident.

"We all agree PURITY must be destroyed," he said, "SecDef Wilder and Admiral Massinger have briefed me on the issue, and we have prepared a solid plan to recapture Rausseman and eliminate the threat. Admiral?"

Admiral Eugene Massinger stood up. He was an elderly man, with a scar on his forehead that he'd received in the Vietnam War. He had sat among the big players in the military for two decades - everybody knew and respected him, although they didn't necessarily all like him.

Case in point - Lieutenant-General Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross, who could be seen glaring at the admiral as he began to speak.

"There are several smaller bases that PURITY has been using that haven't yet been attacked," he said, "The governments of Argentina, Angola and several others didn't want US forces in their countries. Up until now, we've been willing to accept that. This has forced our hand."

Red dots appeared on the giant map - the so-called 'Big Board' - behind them.

"We've been in contact with SHIELD and the UN-NERF teams," continued Massinger, "And we'll be mobilising _everyone_ and _everything_. US Marines, SEALs and Army Special Forces will be deployed from carrier groups positioned across the South Atlantic Ocean in conjunction with our 'advisors'. Once we've done this, General Rausseman will have nowhere to hide."

"Massinger," snapped Ross, "Have you seen some of these advisors? They're damn menaces! You've got a half-dead adolescent with no combat training, Nora Wakeman's blasted death machine, _the Hulk..."_

"They will be in constant contact with US forces," replied Wilder, "I don't like 'em any more than you do, General Ross, but if they do anything to endanger our forces, we'll cap 'em."

"Whoa, whoa!" exclaimed an Army general, raising his hands, "Pull it back a little, Wilder! These people helped save the President last year!"

"While you sat on your hands doing nothing," grunted Ross, "I find it hard to believe that the National Guard couldn't handle a couple of Nazi losers in an airship."

"Goddamn it, Ross, I lost a quarter of my men!" snarled the Army general, "I..."

"Settle down, everybody, settle down," said Fulton, "Wilder, did you manage to get the Inhumans on side?"

"They won't talk to us," shrugged Wilder, "Not unless we hand over our terrigen stockpile."

"We oughta nuke 'em," grumbled a suited politician.

"They're on the _Hudson River_ , you imbecile," snapped Wilder.

"Alright, then we should MOAB then," grunted the politician.

"Gentlemen, please!" exclaimed Fulton.

There was silence.

"What about the X-Men?" asked Fulton.

"I had a conference call with Xavier and that blue fr...with McCoy," replied Wilder, "I don't their enthusiastic about our administration, but they'll help us fight PURITY. McCoy offered to talk to Medusa, see if he can get 'em to help us independently."

"Oh, fantastic," grunted Ross, " _Vigilantism._ "

"Whatever we can get, General Ross, whatever we can get," shrugged Fulton, "Alright everyone, zero hero on Operation...Operation _Fortitude_ is first thing tomorrow morning, so get some rest. Admiral Massinger, General Ross, you'll need to talk with me and Wilder..."

* * *

 _Can you feel it on the wind? That's the storm. You are standing on the beach and watching it come in, and you know that you should take shelter but you find yourself mesmerised by the dark mass of clouds on the horizon._

"Coulson!"

Agent Coulson looked up as Fury walked into one of the comms rooms on the helicarrier.

"Director?" replied Coulson.

"Operation Fortitude's going ahead, despite my advice," grunted Fury, "They'll retaliate. I want all non-essential people out of the way when they do."

"Safe haven?"

"Safe haven."

Fury walked away as Coulson activated his ear piece.

"Safe haven is in effect," he said, "Contact the following; Parker. Morales. Khan..."

 _You feel something strange in the air, although you can't quite guess what it is. I suppose these are peculiar times._

"Connie! _Connie!_ "

Connie ran out of Steven's house, sword drawn.

"Steven, what..."

She trailed off.

Steven was standing next to a truly enormous dog, cheerfully rubbing its belly. Lion was standing next to him, looking a little bit put out.

"Uh...what's this?" asked Connie, walking up to them.

"I dunno!" replied Steven, "It's like a dog but it's also like a cow..."

"So...a cowdog?"

Connie noticed an envelope attached to its collar and carefully took it off, opening it.

"Crystal Gems," she read, "I have sent Lockjaw to you with an urgent warning..."

 _You could be one of the masses running for cover. There is nothing stopping you, not really._

The Quinjet landed on the roof of a New York building, and a couple of SHIELD agents jumped out. They regarded the other, costumed figure on the roof - the lead agent saluted.

"Sir!"

"Wow, I'm _sir_ now?" mused Spider-Man.

"I've got orders from Director Fury to take you to the helicarrier immediately," replied the SHIELD agent, "Something's come up."

"And he couldn't have just sent a text?" asked Spider-Man.

"Just get on the damn Quinjet."

 _But I suppose you've realised that it's already too late. It will wash over you whether you run or stand still._

"Sir! Park Ranger! I need to talk to you!"

Vlad grumbled to himself as he walked to the door of his secluded cabin. The Park Rangers were the only people who ever made it up here, and they were an incredibly annoying bunch.

He opened the door.

Electricity ran through his body as the PURITY trooper outside jabbed him with an anti-ghost tazer. He fell onto his back - through blurry vision, he could see three soldiers standing over him, rifles trained on him. He found that he could not activate his ghost powers.

"What do we do, sir?"

 _The wind has been sown and you will reap the whirlwind._

General Armin Rausseman sat in the back of a long, black limousine with blacked out windows. He reached up to an earpiece and activated it.

"Kill him."

He smirked as the sound of gunshots filled his ear. He looked up.

"Reaping the whirlwind," he said, "Do you think that was shocking?"

He chuckled.

"This is only the beginning," he replied, "And we've come far too far to stop now."

* * *

AN: We're nearly there, everyone.


	24. 24 10 17: Roommate

Renting your guest room is a dangerous affair.

* * *

 **24/10/17: Roommate**

"...I don't care if it's his favourite fast food, I'm not letting him ruin it for me."

Timmy and I walked down the hall towards my guest bedroom. I knocked and immediately opened the door.

"We're going for KFC, you wanna - _aw, Jesus!_ "

My new roommate stood in the middle of his room, just in the finishing touches of transforming Gaz into a lamp. Around him were a variety of other artworks and artefacts, most of which was obviously transfigured from things that were once human.

"What?" replied the roommate, Floyd, "I needed a lamp."

"Floyd, when I asked you if you were this sort of person you specifically said no!" I exclaimed.

"Um...yes, but..." Floyd scratched the back of his neck, sweating, "That...that's the only one."

"Oh, is it?" I snapped, "Shall we check his possessions, Mr. Turner? Because I can do that, I'm the Landlord."

"I...uh...would rather you didn't," swallowed Floyd.

Timmy stepped into the room, pointing at a life-sized fibreglass figure.

"So, you just _happen_ to have a life-sized mannequin of Vicky?" he demanded.

"She came at me with a chainsaw," replied Floyd.

"...okay, point taken," nodded Timmy, "But what about those?"

He pointed to a collection of sealed six-inch action figures - specifically Pearl, Ford Pines, Princess Bubblegum and Jimmy Carter.

"For the sake of my sanity, I'm _not_ going to ask why half of those are elderly men," I said.

"I...got those from Comic Con."

"And _that?_ "

I pointed to an enormous poster of Timmy's Dad. He was wearing nothing but his underwear and tie and was clearly twerking.

"...I think I'm gonna throw up," gagged Timmy.

"Okay, fine," admitted Floyd, "I like turning people into decorative objects for my room. It's my _aesthetic_."

" _Plaid_ is an aesthetic!" I snapped, "Timmy's _pink hat_ is an aesthetic! My _shirt and tie_ is an aesthetic! This is _creepy_."

"Yeah," nodded Timmy, "So why don't you turn back that Patrick Star pencil sharpener, that Marceline mouse pad and that Jerry Smith hat rack and then get the heck out-"

 _POOF._

There was a puff of smoke, and Timmy was turned into a PEZ dispenser.

"Well, that was uncalled for," I said.

"Look, I _need_ this, landlord," said Floyd, "Turning people into things is the only way to alleviate the feeling of crushing loneliness that consumes my soul!"

"Wait, loneliness?" I asked, "You just want... _friends?_ "

"I...yeah," replied Floyd, tearing up a little.

I put a hand on Floyd's shoulder.

"Floyd," I said, "Come with me. I was gonna meet some people, so I'm going to show you... _Friends._ "

* * *

 _So no-one told you life was gonna be this way...  
CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP_

Floyd and I sat in KFC, laughing and joking with Peridot, Amethyst, Dipper and Wendy.

 _Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA..._

We rode bikes down a hill - Peridot hit a rock and began to roll head-over-heels in comical fashion.

 _It's like you're always stuck in second gear..._

Eating ice-cream - Dipper accidentally knocked his scoop off the cone, and everybody laughed at him.

 _When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month or even your year, but..._

We rode a wooden rollercoaster. I put on a helmet as it began the first drop - those things are rickety after all.

 _I'll be there for you  
When the rain starts to pour..._

We all danced in the rain. A large drop fell in Floyd's eye and he winced in pain.

 _I'll be there for you  
Like I've been there before..._

We all were fighting in the jungles of Vietnam.

 _I'll be there for you  
'Cause you're there for me too..._

We laughed generically in slow motion as the song ended.

* * *

We sat on Moonlit Peak, a peak that was usually moonlit, and looked up at the moon and stars. It had been a wonderful day.

"Wow, guys," said Floyd, "That was the best day I ever had!"

"See, Floyd," I nodded, "All you needed was friends. And a musical number."

"Yeah," chuckled Floyd.

He sat back.

"This is gonna make the sculpture I turn you guys into all the more meaningful."

" _What?!_ " exclaimed Wendy.

"You lied to us in a montage?" snapped Dipper, "Man, _not cool._ "

"Yeah," shrugged Floyd, standing up as his hands began to glow, "But I've got to live up to my reputation as a fearsome wizard."

"You never disclosed that in the rent contract," I said.

"I mentioned it to you three times," replied Floyd.

"I don't recall."

Floyd shook his head and snapped his fingers.

Then he snapped them again.

"Why isn't anything happening?" demanded Floyd.

"Simple," replied Peridot, "We foresaw your possible treachery and brought _this_ along."

Amethyst smirked as she pulled out a strange object - it was the Fiddley Thing.

"We went ahead and made ourselves immune to your magic," finished Peridot.

"And just to be even safer, I've been carrying the Anti-Magic Tommy Gun around all day," I added, taking the gun off my back.

"Oh. I was wondering why you were carrying that around," said Floyd, "Um...I guess you're going to be beat me up until I free all of my objects."

"Not just that, buddy," said Wendy, "We're gonna be doing it to _another montage._ "

 _Do you believe in magic_

Wendy punched Floyd in the face.

 _In a young girl's heart_

I shot at him with the Tommy Gun.

 _How the music can free her whenever it starts_

Amethyst snared him in his whip and flung him into a tree.

 _And it's magic_

Peridot stood on Floyd's shoulders, pulling his ears in a painful fashion.

 _If the music is groovy_

Dipper stood next to Floyd. He was making a very rude finger gesture.

 _It makes you feel happy like an old time movie_

Wendy and Dipper released a bag of cats onto Floyd's face.

 _I'll tell you 'bout the magic and it'll free your soul_

Peridot and Amethyst sledded down the hill on Floyd's back.

 _But it's like trying to tell a stranger 'bout rock and roll..._

"Well, that was violent."

We stood over Floyd's battered, bruised body. I dusted off my hands.

"Alright, I fold!" exclaimed Floyd, his hands glowing as he clicked his fingers, "They've turned back, just leave me alone!"

"Thank you," I nodded, "Now, back to my house before Habitat start's wondering where Mr. Carter went."

I turned to Peridot and Amethyst.

"Think you guys can teleport me back?" I asked.

"This is a delicate machine," replied Peridot, "We still haven't quite worked out how..."

Amethyst took the Fiddley Thing, slamming her finger on a button. There was a flash of light.

I looked down at my new body and shook my head, clutching my temple.

"Y'all did that on purpose," I grunted in Sandy's voice.

"Yeah," nodded Amethyst, "I did."

* * *

AN: Floyd's contract was promptly terminated.


	25. 25 10 17: The Eve of Destruction

And here...we... _go._

* * *

 **25/10/17: The Eve of Destruction**

 _10_

PURITY's Namibian base is situated on an artificial ridge - a manmade mountain, painstakingly sculpted to look like a natural feature.

As UN-NERF and the marines advance up the rocky crags, Steve Rogers finds himself in a group with Hawkeye, Garnet and Colonel Kinnock. The tanks have rolled as far as they can, and are now providing fire support from the open ground beyond.

Aircraft rocket above. Steve watches as War Machine leads a couple of A-10 Warthogs - big, ugly ground-attack planes - to their targets.

Kinnock gives a shout. Her Irish peacekeepers have gone as far as they're going to go. Now they'll hold here, while Steve carries on to the PURITY command centre.

He charges forward, shield up, as PURITY troopers dug in above fire desperately down on him. Around him, the marines continue to advance. Clint gives him a covering barrage of arrows as he and Garnet rush ever upwards.

Steve is wary. This is all too easy.

 _9_

Obergruppenführer Kohl knows he going to die here. He's accepted that.

Namibia was always a trap - the dangling keys in front of the American war machine. He has done his job. All these so-called heroes are now coming to get him. All in concert with the army, the navy, the air force, the marines.

 _Perfect._

He speaks into the base PA.

"Fight to the last, men. Take as many as you can with you. _Sieg Heil._ "

 _8_

Stan and Ford have landed at San Jose International Airport. Ford is now hailing a cab. The heist is drawing near.

If Stan's honest, he can't wait. He loves a good heist. And a good heist with his brother? Even better.

He's not dumb enough to ask what could possibly go wrong. But he knows in his gut that they'll get through okay.

 _7_

The United States military has 490 megatons of nuclear weapons in operation condition.

The men and women guarding them, servicing them and operating them are some of the most important in the military.

ERI rollouts for them finished a week ago. Secretary of Defence Wilder is a very happy man.

 _6_

There's three of them; they have no names but are codenamed WILHELM, FREIDRICH and BARBAROSSA. They each carry a battery of large missiles - very short ranged, but extremely destructive. The missile warheads are based on stolen blueprints for the Grand Slam - the so-called 'earthquake bomb'.

They are u-boats, and they are slipping quietly into New York Harbour.

 _5_

Martin K. Allsworthy, tech bro extraordinaire, sits in his penthouse atop his company HQ building, watching an old Bond movie. He's a man who loves pop culture, and is known for slipping references to it into his day to day life whenever he can. Sometimes it annoys people, but he doesn't care.

The stressful part is over, now all he has to do is wait. And how better to wait than with a martini (shaken not stirred, of course) and a classic spy film?

This is the life.

 _4_

The loose ends are being dealt with.

Masters is done (or so the kill team claims). The bag men have already claimed a number of unreliable military men - off the record, of course. He's just heard that Brigadier-General Glenn Talbot's been in a nasty accident. What a shame, what a shame.

Wilder sits alone in a Pentagon office, a cigar ready to be lit on his desk. He won't light it now, though - that would be premature.

 _3_

Reed Richards is concerned.

What makes the government think that PURITY's on the ropes? How many times have they declared HYDRA finished, for example - or even the Brotherhood? It's like a game of whack-a-mole - PURITY will rise again, and Reed can't help but feel like Washington is being played.

Then again, when are they ever not?

It's enough to make you think democracy...

Reed dismisses that thought and returns to his work. He needs to keep his mind off things.

 _2_

There are three hundred men garrisoned at Charles' Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It's a precaution, of course - PURITY might well attack, and the President doesn't want a mutant slaughter on his record. Unless it's _provoked_ , of course.

There are between three and four hundred fighter aircraft on patrol across the United States. PURITY could fly a plane in, after all.

There are three carrier groups in the Atlantic, and special forces are already working with the 'superheroes' to finish PURITY. Security through firepower - not an unsound military tactic.

President Fulton sits in his office and feels very pleased with himself. Things are looking good. It's been a shaky start to his term - not helped by the damn press and the Inhumans refusing to play ball - but it looks like he's finally in control of things.

Far away from Washington, General Rausseman holds the dice. He prepares to throw.

The time is nearly right...

 _1_

* * *

AN: **IT'S HAPPENING.**


	26. 26 10 17: The Reference Job

It's time for plot! Hurray!

* * *

 **26/10/17: The Reference Job**

"FutureCorp's corporate headquarters."

Ford showed Stan the map as they stood in the alleyway.

"It's not a big building - only twenty-eight floors - but it's _crawling_ with security," he explained, "We'll need to get in here..."

He pointed to a small room on the twenty-fifth floor.

"It's a high-security room, but its purpose is unmarked on the plans," he said, "If PURITY have anything in this building, it's in there. If we find anything dangerous, we head up to the top floor and confront Allsworthy himself - maybe we can get him to tell us how deep he's in on this. Any questions?"

"You really intend to just walk past security into this secret room?" asked Stan.

"I'll use the fire escape stairs," replied Ford, "They're only garrisoned by a pair of guards at any one time. I'll need a distraction to keep them from calling backup - that'll be your job, Stanley."

Stan smiled and nodded.

"Won't let you down, Ford," he said, "I've been taking lessons in being deliberately annoying from Mabel."

"...why?"

"To drive you up the wall, of course!" chuckled Stan, "Now how about we get this done..."

* * *

Stan strolled into the lobby of the FutureCorp building.

"All right," he said, "How to distract an entire building's worth of guards?"

"...what I'm saying is, I'm sure your CEO is up to some kind of nefarious scheme and my wife and I would like to be a part of that."

Stan looked over to the front desk. Preston and Priscilla Northwest were talking to the receptionist, who was trying in vain to tell them that Allsworthy was not running a pyramid scheme.

"Ah! Perfect."

Stan walked over, a big grin on his face.

"Hey, Northwest! I got something for ya!"

Preston turned around, scowling.

"What on Earth makes you think somebody so common as you can just-"

Stan socked him in the jaw.

"Security! _Security!_ " shouted the receptionist.

Stan jumped onto the desk, raising his fists in the air.

"Send me all you got! This is the left hook that killed _Bill Cipher!_ "

* * *

" _Two-niner, two-niner, we have a altercation in the lobby, requesting backup._ "

"Copy, two-one, heading there now."

The suited security guard called up the stairwell to his partner.

"Larry! I'm heading to the front, they need backup!"

"Yeah, I got it."

The guard began to walk down the steps, drawing his pistol as he did.

He turned the corner, and suddenly found himself in a headlock, a hand over his mouth.

"Drop the gun," hissed Ford.

The guard nodded and dropped it.

"Security pass," Ford added.

The guard swallowed, slowly passing Ford his pass.

"Good," nodded Ford.

He paused for a moment.

"You got any good one-liners for someone about to chloroform a guy?"

"Sleep tight?"

"That's terrible, but I'll go with it."

He shoved a chloroform handkerchief into the guards face, and he quickly passed out.

* * *

"Mr. Allsworthy?"

An assistant walked into Martin K. Allsworthy's penthouse. She found him grinning, absently juggling his phone between his hands.

"Ah, Ms. DiCocco," nodded Allsworthy, putting down the phone, "How's the internship working for you?"

Tambry shrugged.

"It's okay I guess," she said, "Uh, security told me to tell you there's a guy in the lobby going..."

She squinted at the note she'd been given.

"... _all Manners Maketh Man_ on the security guards down there," she finished.

"Oh, really?"

He turned on his television, changing to channel to the lobby security feed. He watched as Stan hurled a security guard through a window before turning on another and speed-punching him in the gut.

"Oh wow," said Allsworthy, "Somebody call Michael Vaughn, that needs to be in a movie! A good one, I mean, not like that sequel he made."

"Wait a minute," said Tambry, realising that she recognised Stan.

"Hmm, what is it?" asked Allsworthy.

"Uh, nothing, nothing," replied Tambry.

"Fair 'nuff, sister," replied Allsworthy obnoxiously, "Let's see what's on the other channels, shall we?"

He switched the channel, just in time to see Ford knocking out a guard and shoving him into a recycling bin at the twenty-fifth floor fire escape.

"Ooh, we got ourselves a John McLane!" exclaimed Allsworthy, rubbing his hands together.

"Want me to tell security?" asked Tambry.

"No, I wanna watch what he does," replied Allsworthy, "I haven't seen a good _Die Hard_ in years..."

* * *

Ford swiped the employee card and entered the secret room.

It wasn't actually very impressive - it was just a single keyboard in front of a large screen, flanked on both sides by bulky CPUs that covered the walls.

Ford sat down, making sure to be as quiet as possible. He clicked on the mouse.

 _PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD_

 _[hint: Blade Runner]_

"That was the last movie I saw before...well, everything went down," mused Ford.

He typed in 'Deckard'.

 _WELCOME MR. ALLSWORTHY_

 _WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?_

 _[1] OPERATION BREAKING DAWN_

 _[2] OPTIONS_

 _[3] SOLITARE_

"Is this guy for real?" grunted Ford.

He selected the first option. A detailed description of Operation Breaking Dawn appeared on the screen. It was completely without redacting, despite the words 'for Department of Defence Eyes Only' being written along the top.

"This doesn't bode well," Ford said to himself, "What's he got under Options?"

He selected the second option.

 _OPTIONS FOR BREAKING DAWN_

 _[1] PLAN NINE FROM OUTER SPACE_

 _[2] AIR FORCE ONE_

 _[3] DOCTOR STRANGELOVE_

 _[4] NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR_

 _[5] MEN IN BLACK II_

 _[6] STAR WARS [APPROVED]_

"... _seriously?_ "

Ford shook his head. Apparently this man operated entirely within the frame of pop-culture references.

"Well, what got approved?" he asked himself.

He selected the last option. He swallowed as he read it out.

"Yeah, we have to stop that. We have to stop that _now._ "

He got up, ready to run out the door. He found himself staring down the barrel of a guard's gun.

"Shouldn't have done that, asshole," he snarled, "Now we're gonna have to shut you..."

A chair came down hard on his back and he slumped to the ground. Stan was standing behind him.

"Got bored, came upstairs," he shrugged.

" _Stanley_ ," grunted Ford.

He shook his head.

"I know what Allsworthy's up to," he said, "He's with PURITY. We need to stop him _right now_."

"How bad is it?" asked Stan.

Ford picked up the guard's gun.

" _Very._ "

* * *

" _Sir, we can't stop them, they're coming up to you!_ "

"Well we'll just have to let 'em come, won't we?" shrugged Allsworthy, "I'll just have to talk to them, won't I?"

The penthouse door flew open and the old Pines twins charged inside. Ford pulled his gun on the tech billionaire.

"The game's up, Allsworthy!" he shouted, "We know what you're up to!"

"Mr. Pines? What the heck is going on?" demanded Tambry.

"Don't worry, my brother's only gonna shoot you if you're a Nazi," shrugged Stan.

"Stanford Pines, is it?" chuckled Allsworthy, "Sit down, would you kindly? I'm sure we can sort this out..."

"Your references betray you, Allsworthy," snapped Ford, "I saw your file."

"Yeah, you're really not subtle," added Stan, "I mean, ERI Runtime Order _Sixty-Six?_ I'm pushing seventy and _I_ get that reference."

"...Order Sixty-Six? As in Star Wars?" quizzed Tambry.

"I have a sense of humour," shrugged Allsworthy.

"A _sense of humour?!_ " exclaimed Ford, "You inserted a order into a brain implant that would allow PURITY to take total control of the military! You've got a list of people who need to be eliminated to allow them to take control! That's not _humour_ , Allsworthy, that's _mass murder!_ "

"I...is this true?" asked Tambry.

Allsworthy smiled and stood up.

"Oh, I guess I'm rumbled," he said, "I guess you've just stopped PURITY, gentlemen. Good job, good job."

He turned to Tambry.

"What's the time, Ms. DiCocco?" he asked.

"Seriously, you're a _Nazi?_ " exclaimed Tambry.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn; what is the _time?_ " demanded Allsworthy.

"It's...three thirty-five."

For a second, there was silence. Then, suddenly, Allsworthy began to laugh.

"What is it, what're you laughing at?" barked Ford.

"It's _perfect_ ," replied Allsworthy, a look of pure joy on his face, "It's just...it's _perfect_. I couldn't have arranged this any better if I tried."

"What do you mean _arranged?_ " demanded Ford, "Make sense, damn it."

"It's the most perfect pop culture reference I ever could have imagined," replied Allsworthy, "An unintentional reference to one of the greatest twists in history! Oh, this feels _so_ good..."

" _WHAT IS IT?!"_ thundered Ford.

"Oh, Stanford," chuckled Allsworthy, "Stanford, Stanford, Stanford."

He took in a deep breath and smiled with utmost serenity.

" _I did it thirty-five minutes ago._ "

* * *

AN: Well, here we are - the point of no return.


	27. 27 10 17: The World Turned Upside Down

This is the chapter people are going to hate me for.

* * *

 **27/10/17: The World Turned Upside Down**

 _Roughly thirty-five minutes earlier..._

"Breach! Breach!"

The door to the command centre burst open. Steve charged in first, shield drawn - he was followed first by Garnet and Clint, and then by a squad of marines.

The room was devoid of life. Several officers were slumped at their desks, pistols in their hands - their commander, Obergruppenführer Kohl, lay on the floor.

"We have not captured Kohl, command - I say again, we have _not_ captured Kohl," one of the marines reported into his radio.

"They did this before," mused Steve, "In Alaska."

"Guess this proves Major Wilkus wasn't an outlier," nodded Clint, "Makes sense - they're fanatics, they wouldn't want to risk talking."

Steve walked up to Kohl's body, leaning over it. He pulled an identification card from his breast pocket.

"Obergruppenführer Peter Kohl," he read, "That's a pretty high rank."

Garnet glanced at one of the terminals on the desks. She leaned over it, watching as text began to appear on the screen.

 _...primary order from HQ_

 _...ERI runtime command -execute order_66_

A couple of the marines seemed to wince, one briefly clutching his head.

"Captain," she said, "I think you might want to..."

Without warning, the marines raised their rifles and opened fire.

Steve quickly pulled up his shield and Garnet blocked with her gauntlets, but Clint was not so lucky. His body jolted as he was hit several times, and he fell onto his back.

" _Clint!_ " exclaimed Steve.

Painfully, Clint attempted to raise his bow, an expression of shock and confusion on his face. A marine fired two shots into his head, and he was still.

"What the hell are you doing?!" demanded Steve, "He was one of ours!"

Garnet shook her head.

"We need to get out of here," she said, "Something terrible is happening."

Steve nodded, taking a deep breath. They charged towards their attackers, bound for the door.

* * *

James Rhodes, better known as War Machine, led the flight of A-10 Warthogs towards their targets on the ground in Namibia. The battle seemed to be going well, and he was feeling extremely confident.

" _Target acquired, guns free, guns free._ "

The Warthogs opened fire with their cannons, raking Rhodes with fire. Two of his repulsers failed immediately, and he began to spin towards the desert below.

"Cease fire, cease fire, I'm friendly!"

The Warthogs followed him down, continuing to fire despite Rhodes' desperate pleas. Seconds later he hit the ground hard - the suit disintegrated in a massive fireball, and the Warthogs pulled up and flew away.

* * *

Somewhere in Argentina, Black Widow led a small team of special forces through a mountain pass, bound for a PURITY anti-air bunker.

She turned around to give an order, half a second too late to see the submachine guns pointed at her. She managed to raise her own gun, but only got a few shots off before she was gunned down by her own troops.

They left her in the dust, carrying on to the bunker.

* * *

The Abrams tanks burst through the gates of Xavier's' School for Gifted Youngsters, escorted by infantry in gas masks. Behind them, artillery batteries fired shells filled with terrigen gas into the grounds - the haze made it nearly impossible to see where the army was coming from.

Hank McCoy, or Beast, held the main door closed as Cyclops and Colossus tried to evacuate the students through the back. He coughed as the terrigen gas entered his lungs, but held as firm as he could.

There was a loud bang as the door was blown open by explosives. Hank was thrown back - before he could recover, a squad of infantry were on him, unloading their weapons into the big blue mutant. A tank shell screamed past, hitting Colossus and knocking him backwards into the wall. More shells followed it, blanketing him with high explosive rounds.

Cyclops turned, blasting an oncoming tank. The vehicle brewed up, but the infantry behind it opened fire at once. The devastating volley hit Cyclops several times, and he slumped to his knees.

"Pursue the students," ordered an officer, "Nobody leaves."

"They're...they're _kids_ ," whispered Cyclops, appalled.

The officer turned to him, pistol drawn.

"PURITY will prevail," he said.

Cyclops noticed that his eyes seemed somewhat glazed.

There was a loud bang, and he knew no more.

* * *

From the middle of New York Harbour, a missile burst from under the waves. It was soon followed by another, and another, and another...

Reed was working in his lab when an alarm went off.

" _Warning. Incoming object. ETA twenty seconds._ "

"Twen... _countermeasures, now!_ " bellowed Reed.

" _Anti-missile battery online in thirty seconds_."

Reed swore. He dove to the ground, morphing into a flat sheet to provide himself with the most cover. He thought about his family - they'd be able to protect themselves, right?

The missile hit the Baxter Building, and with a massive explosion it crumbled into dust.

Not far away, in the Hudson River, a salvo of no less than five missiles was falling on Attilan. Such ordinance was enough to destroy a reinforced underground bunker.

Those Inhumans who survived would declare the attack to be utterly cowardly. It could not, however, be said that it wasn't effective.

* * *

Coulson and Maria Hill gazed up at the board in the communications room. One by one, small dots representing a known ally - a _hero_ \- were going out.

"My god," breathed Coulson.

Hill's expression darkened.

"They're gonna pay for this," she declared, "I swear, they're gonna pay..."

* * *

Steve and Garnet ran down a hill, having lost the marines pursuing them. They turned a corner and found themselves face to face with Colonel Kinnock and her peacekeepers.

"Friendly, friendly!" shouted Kinnock, motioning for her men to lower their rifles.

"What is going on?" asked Steve as they stopped in front of the peacekeepers.

"Something seems to have gone wrong with those Yank implants," replied Kinnock, "They're out of control."

"We've noticed," grunted Garnet.

"SHIELD's sent a Quinjet," continued Kinnock, "It's just at the bottom of the hill. We'll cover you, just get up there."

"There they are! Fire!"

A group of marines appeared from behind a rocky crag, opening fire.

"Go, now!" shouted Kinnock.

"Thanks," nodded Steve.

" _I said go!_ "

Steve and Garnet ran past the peacekeepers and down the hill. The Quinjet hovered at the bottom, covered by SHIELD troops.

"Come on, move, move, move!" yelled a SHIELD trooper.

There was a loud bang.

Garnet tumbled to the ground as an artillery shell crashed down right next to her. She rolled onto her back, her visor shattered.

"Garnet!" exclaimed Steve, stopping.

"Keep going," wheezed Garnet, "Make sure Steven's safe...I'll be fine..."

She groaned and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Her gems fell to the ground - Ruby stayed in place, but Sapphire rolled down the hill towards the Quinjet.

"Cap, for god's sake, _move!_ " shouted the SHIELD trooper.

Steve doubled back, reaching down and grabbing Sapphire's gem. He was about to grab Ruby's when the marines appeared atop the hill, firing down on the captain. He was forced to run in the opposite direction, diving into the Quinjet just as the door began to close.

He lay on the floor of the Quinjet, panting heavily.

"Glad to have you with us, sir," nodded the SHIELD trooper, "Situation's pretty bad."

"Yeah," nodded Steve, "It is."

He stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Just an hour ago, PURITY had been on the rocks.

Now it looked like they might just win...

* * *

AN: Well, this is not advantageous.


	28. 28 10 17: Intermission A

Just a very quick one today.

* * *

 **28/10/17: Intermission A: E350 vs. the Nazis**

Hi! I'm E350. We're getting an intermission today because a) this story arc is very dark and we need levity and b) I'm playing the new _Wolfenstein_ and it's _amazing._

Over the years, I've developed a reputation for using the Nazis in just about everything I write. When doing so, the Nazis tend to fall into three categories;

\- Type A: The Breathtakingly Incompetent Nazis

\- Type B: The Moustache-Twirlingly Evil Nazis

\- Type C: The Gratuitous Back-Story Nazis

(To be fair, the first two are historically accurate.)

I thought I'd go through and examine all of my uses of Hitler's merry band of human automatons and see where each example fits. Enjoy!

* * *

 **End Times Trilogy:** Hitler is literally presented as the previous King of Darkness in a somewhat unnecessary flashback. The artefact of the Dark is a Nazi-style armband. Combination Type B and C.

 **HU1:** The Nazis get roflstomped by legendary Pokémon fighting for the British Army. Type A.

 **Quest for the Orb of Power:** The Nazis, although they are explicitly not named as such, are comprehensively defeated by three teenagers and a ten year old (who then proceed to wreck some Soviets as well). Type A.

 **HU2:** Wax Hitler ( _and_ Himmler) comes to life to kill people. Nazis capture a device that inevitably kills them. Type A and B.

 **HU3:** Nazis only appear once but it's to defy the Treaty of Versailles. Type B.

 **It Came From Retroville:** No Nazis, per say, but the Komet rocket fighter is brutally made fun of. Type A.

 **Destiny:** Hitler orders the ultimate evil summoned despite being explicitly told not to, then tries to hide it from the guy who knew about it. Type A.

 **Unstuck:** Time travelling Wendy encounters SS, who promptly try to torture and kill her. Type B.

 **HU6:** PURITY's origin story. Type B and C.

 **Where Eejits Dare:** Most of a Nazi base is wiped out by _Morty_. Type A.

 **HU7:** Well, _B_ , obviously.

* * *

AN: THERE DONE BACK TO WOLFENSTEIN


	29. 29 10 17: Adapt or Perish

Featuring a easter egg referencing a show I don't actually watch! Yay!

* * *

 **29/10/17: Adapt or Perish**

The doorbell rung.

Simon Pines grumbled quietly as he got up to walk to the door, leaving his children, Dipper and Mabel, sitting alone in the front of the TV. The news was dire, and getting worse.

" _...Department of Defence officials have denied a 'purge' being undertaken by the US military, although Secretary of Defence William Wilder could not be reached for comment. The President, in a press conference regarding what he called 'the cowardly PURITY attack on New York', refused to comment, berating reporters for mentioning it at a time of national tragedy. Now we go to our other top story for tonight - the San Jose Police Department have surrounded the FutureCorp HQ building after two old men took CEO Martin K. Allsworthy hostage..."_

Quite suddenly, two very large animals warped into the room.

" _What in the?!_ " exclaimed Dipper, jumping out of his skin.

Mabel gasped, hands on her cheeks.

"Oh my gosh! Dipper, it's a dogcow! Or possibly a cowdog!"

Steven and Connie climbed off of Lion's back. As they did so, Lockjaw trotted up to Mabel and licked her face.

"Aw, he likes me!"

In the other room, they heard a door opening.

"What in the...whatever Uncle Stan's done, I am _not_ involved..." said Simon.

"Military Police, sir," a voice replied, "We need to ask you some questions."

"Guys, we've gotta get out of here," hissed Connie, "PURITY's coming."

"But I thought we kicked their butts!" replied Mabel.

"They got _un_ kicked," sighed Steven.

"Quick, get on Lockjaw," said Connie, pointing to the enormous dog.

"But...what if he eats me?" asked Dipper, nervously.

Mabel cheerfully dragged him onto the Lockjaw's back.

* * *

"We believe your family has been involved in the harbouring of an individual from another dimension," said one of the MPs, "We've got orders to search the premises."

 _Yep, this is_ definitely _connected to Stan_ , thought Simon.

"Uh, certainly, gentlemen, I'll just need to see your warrant and..." he began, scratching the back of his head.

The other MP draw his pistol.

" _This_ would be my warrant, Mr. Diaz, so if you don't..."

"Pines."

" _What did you say to me?!_ " bellowed the MP, thrusting his gun in Simon's face.

" _My name's Pines,_ Pines!" shouted Simon, throwing his arms up.

"...Pines," nodded the MP.

He turned to his partner, who was looking at a map on his smartphone.

"No, no, I'm sure I...wait, no, hang on...I spelt it wrong, we're three blocks out. My bad, my bad..."

He cleared his throat and looked up at Simon.

"Sorry, sir," he said, "We've got the wrong address. You have a good day."

The two MPs turned around and headed back to their car, leaving a visibly terrified Simon alone.

"Geez," he said, shaking his head, "Should've asked for their supervisor's number...or is it CO for them? Ah well."

He turned around and walked back to the living room, finding it empty.

"Uh...kids?"

* * *

The Quinjet touched down on the flight deck of the helicarrier and the rear door opened. Steve limped out of the aircraft, carrying Sapphire's gem in his hand. He encountered Coulson waiting for him.

"Come on," he said, "The Director wants you on the bridge in ten."

"What's going on, Phil?" asked Steve.

Coulson shook his head.

"Damn ERIs," replied Coulson, "Either they've completely malfunctioned, or they're working as intended and PURITY just took control of the military."

"Why didn't we catch this earlier?" asked Steve.

"Fury always suspected," replied Coulson, "That's why the ERI was never issued to SHIELD. We tried to warn Secretary Wilder and the Joint Chiefs that this could happen, but they didn't listen."

"...because they've been part of PURITY from the beginning," nodded Steve.

"That's what it looks like," nodded Coulson.

Steve ran a hand through his hair as they entered the command tower.

"How many?" he asked.

"We're still counting," replied Coulson grimly, "Natasha, Rhodes, you know about Clint. We've lost all contact with Wilson and Maximoff, but they might be alive. Spider-Man, Vision and Banner are on board at the moment."

"And Tony?"

"He's in Wakanda. Speaking of which..."

They stepped onto the bridge. Fury, Hill and Bruce Banner were already there, in front of a holographic screen displaying both Tony Stark and T'Challa - the king of Wakanda and the current Black Panther.

"...we intend to start moving people as soon as possible," Hill was saying, "Are your people ready?"

" _The Wakandan military are on full alert_ ," replied T'Challa, " _If PURITY wants to start a war by following your craft into our airspace, it will be on them._ "

"Captain on deck!" a SHIELD crewman shouted.

Fury, Hill and Bruce turned as Steve and Coulson walked up to them.

" _Cap,_ " nodded Tony, " _Out of the fire, huh?_ "

"Into the frying pan," grunted Steve.

" _You holding up alright?_ "

Steve nodded.

"The initial plan was to get everybody onto the helicarrier until the Pentagon regained control of the ERIs," said Fury, "Except about twenty minutes ago, Wilder was reported to be heading for the White House - after telling the press that the ERIs were functioning as intended."

"At the same time, our satellites picked up US Air Force and Navy aircraft scrambling from carriers in the Atlantic and airbases in Namibia," continued Hill, "They're coming this way."

"The only person with the authority to deactivate the ERIs is the President," said Fury, "So I've sent a guy to convince him to do that. But if he fails - or worse, Fulton's already compromised - we need to have everyone ready to evacuate at a moment's notice."

" _Wakanda will be your safe haven_ ," nodded T'Challa, " _Even if Rausseman were stupid enough to start a war with us, it would take them years to break our defences._ "

"So how long do we have?" asked Steve.

"Three hours, at most," replied Bruce.

"Get some rest and be back here in two," ordered Fury, "I need you ready for this."

* * *

"...how in the heck should I know, Spongebob? They just dragged me out of my house and ordered me onto their weird helicarrier."

" _Wow, that does sound a little extreme. Kind of like what Mr. Krabs does when Squidward doesn't count the change up right. Apparently he does something called 'water...'_ "

"Yeah, well, they brought Jimmy and Danny along but I haven't seen Dani anywhere, so...uh...can you guys do me a favour?"

" _Sure thing! What do you need?_ "

"I-If anything happens...just make sure she's okay. I mean, she can bunk with Sandy 'till it all blows over, but...I just wanna make sure she's okay."

" _Sure! No problem. Sponge's honour - which is sort of like Scout's honour, but more absorbent and less obnoxious._ "

"Thanks dude. Oh, and _don't_ tell her about this call, right?"

" _Okay, I promise I won't tell her that you're hopelessly in-_ "

"Okay, call's over, bye."

Timmy quickly hung up the recaller and put it in his pocket.

"Why don't you just call Dani yourself?" asked Danny, who was sitting at the cafeteria table with Timmy and Jimmy.

"Eh, it'll look weird," shrugged Timmy, "I don't want her to think I _care_ about her or anything."

Jimmy and Danny exchanged knowing glances.

The helicarrier cafeteria was solemn and quiet. There were many missing faces, and too few answers as to what happened to them.

"Pearl was on some kind of mission to Africa," sighed Amethyst, sitting at another table with Steven, Connie, Peridot and the Pines Twins, "But I haven't heard anything from her in hours."

"How'd you get out?" asked Dipper.

"We were at the barn and SHIELD just randomly turned up," shrugged Amethyst, "Which sucked, because I was showing Peri _Lil' Butler_."

"Yes...terrible," said Peridot, flatly.

"Yeah, I know! _Lame_ ," grunted Amethyst.

Next to the table, two SHIELD agents were talking to Soos and Wendy.

"Yeah, they're calling it the Wakanda Connection," said one, Agent Baker, "They're flying out everyone they can on commercial flights, staggering it so that PURITY doesn't get suspicious. Your families are gonna be landed in various African cities and smuggled from there into Wakanda."

"Is that gonna be dangerous?" asked Wendy.

"Nah," shrugged the other, Agent Willingham, "It's being handled officially by the Wakandan Army. They've done this before, there's no danger."

"Aw, thanks doods," nodded Soos, "If anything happened to Melody and Abuelita, I'd be _really_ ticked off. I mean, that just wouldn't be cool."

"Trust me, everyone's gonna be fine," said Agent Baker, "They're only going after people who have superpowers or actively work with SHIELD."

"Well, that's dad out," nodded Wendy, "He thinks SHIELD faked the moon landings with Stanley Kubrick or something."

"We didn't," replied Agent Willingham, "That would have been too expensive."

"Alright, everyone, listen up!"

All eyes fell on the door. Steve stood there, flanked by Coulson and Hill.

"They're coming for the helicarrier," he said, "We have about an hour before the first planes get here, but they're fighters, so they're not going to do much damage. If and when they deploy heavier aircraft, we need to have every non-essential person off of this ship."

"...sounds serious, dood," said Soos, redundantly.

"It is," nodded Steve, "We're gonna take you off in groups, but it's possible they may try to sabotage evacuation by landing troops aboard. We need to keep our aircraft protected while they take off. I can't ask you to help, but we're short on people. Any hands we can get would be appreciated. If you want to help, head up to the bridge. Otherwise, stay here, and we'll bring you all up in groups."

There were a few mutters as everyone glanced at one another.

"I can't promise that everyone is going to get off," he admitted, "But I can tell you that I'm not gonna let any of those Nazis get to you without going through me."

He turned around, walking out the door.

There was a long silence.

"Okay, show of hands," said Kamala Khan, standing up at her table, "Who wants to go kick some Nazi butts?"

* * *

President Fulton was beside himself with fury as he walked the corridors of the White House, surrounded by Secret Service agents. Admiral Massinger strolled just behind him.

"The ERIs were _not_ supposed to do that!" he thundered, "I mean, I could care less about Xavier's band of freaks and we're just about on the verge of war with the Inhumans, but god damn it, it makes me look like I'm losing control!"

"Don't worry, Mr. President, we'll fix this," said Admiral Massinger.

"You'd _better_ ," he snarled, "Because this mess is on you. You and Wilder were the ones who said we should adopt these damn things - along with just about all of our allies! I've already got nasty calls from the French! The Germans! The South Koreans! Who _didn't_ have them, Massinger?"

"The Brits said it was too expensive for them," replied Massinger, "Other than that, Italy, Australia, Japan..."

"I wasn't _actually_ asking for a list," snorted Fulton.

He shook his head.

"Christ, we gave those things to the Secret Service," he said, "Why are they playing up for the Army but working fine for..."

He opened the doors to the Oval Office.

"Mr. President, sir."

Wilder was sitting in one of the couches in the officer, smiling personably as he held a glass of red wine. A dead SHIELD agent lay on the carpet next to him, and he was backed by armed Secret Service agents.

"General Rausseman contacted me," he said, "And we thought you might be interested in what we have to say."

Fulton glanced from Wilder to the dead agent, and then up to the Secret Service.

"...okay," he said, "I'll hear you out."

* * *

AN: Fulton, no, don't do it!


	30. 30 10 17: Intermission B: Fiddle Me This

One last funny story before everything goes down.

* * *

 **30/10/17: Intermission B: Fiddle Me This**

 _The last few parts of Halloween Unspectacular have gotten quite dark._

 _It's hard to come up with a funny 'shot to insert between all the dark stuff._

 _Here's a standalone Fiddley Thing story for the year's last 'funny day.'_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

"Hey, Peri! I thought of something we could do with the Fiddley Thing!"

Peridot looked up as Amethyst entered the barn.

"You know how it can alter reality at will?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"And you know how we both totally lack self-control?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I've got the perfect idea!"

She slammed a finger on one of the Fiddley Thing's buttons.

* * *

 _In a city overrun by crime and terror..._

Parramatta, 2017.

 _...horrifying villains are on the rise! Villains like The Darkness!_

Robbie Valentino stood in front of a gang of Goths, dressed in his usual outfit with the hood up and a domino mask over his eyes. They were brooding but otherwise not committing any crimes. One of his gang - an actual Visigoth - looked around in confusion.

"...so, ve are not sacking Rome?"

"I told you, we're not that kind of Goths!" shouted Robbie.

 _The Horrible Imp!_

Aquamarine was holding up a bank teller with her wand, dressed in a dapper tuxedo and top hat.

"This human concept of _organised crime_ is surprisingly fun, isn't it Topaz?" she said.

She turned to Topaz - several bank employees were sticking out of her body. She unenthusiastically gave her a thumbs up.

 _Crime-Dad!_

"Look Timmy, I've become a cat burglar!"

"Dad, _please_ , take off the cat suit."

"Come on, son, this latex fits me like a glove! Feels like I'm wearing _nothing at all!_ "

"I'm gonna go wash my eyes."

 _The Deep State!_

Rick laughed manically in his lab, wearing a stereotypical blue-and-white spandex jumpsuit and cape.

"Rick, why d- why did you call yourself 'the Deep State?'" asked Morty.

"I dunno, I was pretty drunk at the time," shrugged Rick, "Anyway, let's go commit some c-capers, Morty! I wanna do some evil capers, Morty! And then I-I-I'm gonna make everyone laugh at Batman's..."

"Aw, jeez..."

 _And Bill Man!_

Bill floated over Sydney, having turned it into a M. C. Escheresque hellscape. Ferries ran across the sky, a kraken lurked the harbour, and CityRail was running on time.

"Yeah, I'm definitely your typical Adam West Saturday Morning Villain," shrugged Bill, "I mean, I'm totally on the same level as that goth kid and that guy in the cat suit! _Definitely_ not OP!"

 _With the crime wave out of control, there is only one thing the authorities can do!_

"Commissioner Patrick! We need to call them!" Mayor Arnold declared, barging into the commissioner's office.

"I'll do it right now!" nodded Patrick, "Superpeople! Assemble-unite!"

"...Patrick, you're talking into a shoe."

"Quiet! Can't you see I'm _working?!_ "

 _Introducing - the_ _ **Superpeople!**_

 _Featuring the Purple Puma - a shapeshifter with the additional power of...a whip!_

Amethyst stood, wearing her Purple Puma outfit over her normal form. She cracked her whip - then put her finger on her chin, a little perplexed.

"Why did we mention the whip thing last? I mean, it's...it's not really as awesome as the shapeshifting, you know?"

 _And her sidekick - the metalbending engineer, the Amazing Clod!_

Peridot stood next to a garbage bin, lifting it with her powers - she wore a green jumpsuit. Suddenly she dropped it, looking annoyed.

"Wait a minute!" she exclaimed, "I thought I was gonna be the Great and Powerful Peridot? When did that get changed?"

"It's funnier this way," said Amethyst from off-screen.

 _This dynamic duo - can we say that? Will we be sued? - will save the city every Saturday at 7.30, aided by their bold companions!_

 _Such as Ocean Gem, a water bending gem with the powers of apathy._

Lapis, who was still dressed in her normal attire (having not bothered to make a costume), was standing next to the harbour, looking bored. Two armed mobsters were suspended in ropes made of water behind her.

"I'm only doing this because they asked," she shrugged.

 _Captain Absorbent and his partner, Super Squirrel!_

"My power is absorbing fluids!" exclaimed Spongebob, wearing massive goggles over his normal outfit.

"My power is flight, super-strength, super-speed, immunity to all forms of damage and super breath," said Sandy, who was pretty much just wearing Supergirl's costume.

"Wait, then why are _you_ the sidekick?" asked Spongebob, "This doesn't make much sense."

"Eh, it's probably just systematic misogyny in the comics industry," shrugged Sandy, "Y'all know how it is."

 _And Doctor Stanhattan, with the power of vaguely defined particle physics!_

Stan, who was blue, glowing and not wearing any pants, marched into a mob hideout, fists clenched. Everyone immediately pointed guns at him.

"Alright, mobsters, prepare to get a taste of the old Stan Pine-ine- _AH-CHOO!_ "

He sneezed.

"Sorry. Anyway, prepare for...oops."

Everybody in the hideout had exploded, leaving red gunk all over the place.

"Uh...this ain't a bit too dark for this, is it?" he asked, "This is still fine, right? I mean, the Fiddley Thing can probably fix this, maybe?"

 _Together, they are_ _ **the Superpeople!**_ _Saving the city and teaching valuable moral lessons, like not to swim in nuclear waste!_

The Superpeople posed in front of a generic city skyline.

 ** _The Superpeople!_** _Starts this Saturday - don't miss it, or we'll find you!_

There was a long silence.

"Okay, I'm bored with this," said Amethyst.

"Yeah, me too," nodded Peridot, "What now? You wanna go back to that meep-morp dimension?"

"The Salvador Dali one?" replied Amethyst, "Nah, I wanna do pirates next. You guys up for pirates?"

"Yeah, I'm up for pirates," nodded Spongebob.

"I'd prefer a Western but I ain't particularly fussed," said Sandy.

"As long as I can wear pants - it's pretty cold," said Stan.

Lapis shrugged.

"Okay, pirates it is..."

* * *

 _We hope you enjoyed this light-hearted diversion._

 _The Fiddley Thing will return._

* * *

AN: So, what song do I have lined up to listen to while writing the next one?

...It's by Simon and Garfunkel? Cool, which one is...

... _ah._


	31. 31 10 17: Written By The Victors

Oh my god this chapter is _fourteen pages long_.

* * *

 **31/10/17: Written By The Victors**

"...what do you mean _dead_?"

"..."

"Damn. Okay, what about Reed? ...no contact? Same with Black Bolt? Okay, listen - we need a way out of here. Send an aircraft to the roof of the FutureCorp building as soon as you can. This is life or death. Thanks."

Ford hung up his phone.

Things were going badly wrong. The police were gathered outside the building, and he and Stan had the CEO of FutureCorp in an effective hostage situation. They had to get out, and fast.

"Alright, here's the deal," he said, "The Order of the Thirteen are sending a craft to get us out, but we need to be on the roof in twenty. We'll take Allsworthy with us - keep the police from trying anything."

"You're welcome to try," sniffed Allsworthy, "But that isn't gonna happen..."

"Can it, ya human TV Tropes page!" snapped Stan.

"You what?" asked Ford.

"I dunno, it's something Dipper mentioned," shrugged Stan.

Ford nodded.

"Well, we've gotta run," he said, "Tambry, stay here, the cops aren't after you. Allsworthy, lead us to the roof."

He held up the gun. Allsworthy shrugged, walking towards the door.

"You're really wasting your time, gentlemen," he said, "It's game over, _man._ "

Ford scowled and opened the penthouse door.

He found himself face-to-face with General Rausseman himself, backed up by two PURITY troopers.

"Dr. Pines, how good to see you."

Allsworthy grinned, stepping forward.

"Excellent to see you, sir," he said, saluting.

"Where are the ERI override codes?" demanded Rausseman, "I must know that they're safe."

"Apart from the deactivation code, which belongs to Fulton, they're all right here," replied Allsworthy, tapping his head, "Didn't want a paper trail to give 'em away or anything."

"Very good."

He raised his pistol and shot Allsworthy in the head.

"What the heck was that for?" demanded Stan, doubling back in shock as Allsworthy's body slumped to the floor.

"I could not risk a security breach, Herr Pines," replied Rausseman, "He was a loose end. Now he is dealt with."

He smirked.

"And when the police ask who killed them," he added, "They will be told that he was viciously murdered by two old degenerates and his own secretary."

"But I didn't do anything!" exclaimed Tambry.

"Shame," shrugged Rausseman, "Soldiers, extract any information the old fools might have and then finish them off. Leave that mongrel to take the fall - they can give her a nice public trial. Report to me when you're finished."

"Jawohl!"

Rausseman nodded, walking out of the penthouse. He shut the door behind him.

* * *

"Inbound bandits - look like troop transports."

"American?"

"No sir, look like PURITY. They've got fighter escorts..."

Hill nodded, turning away from the agent at the console. She turned to Fury, standing at the centre of the bridge.

"Time's up, sir," she reported.

"Let 'em know," replied Fury.

"Yes sir," said Hill, "All hands, action stations! I repeat, all hands to action stations!"

* * *

On the flight deck, the first wing of Quinjets was being prepared to launch. Coulson was directing the loading procedure.

"Leave supplies," he ordered, "Get people off first!"

The first wave was mostly non-essential SHIELD personnel - clerks, cooks, janitors and other such people - and evacuated civilians. The Quinjets were being filled to maximum safe capacity - orders were to get as many out as possible.

There was a loud bang and the carrier was rocked.

" _Hull breach! Hull breach in Sector B! They're boarding us!_ "

"Get the first wave off the ground!" ordered Coulson.

With a mighty roar, the five Quinjets began to lift off.

Suddenly, a flight of air force fighters - F-22 Raptors - thundered overhead, firing a salvo of rockets. Most of them missed, but one slammed into the side of the fourth Quinjet. It began to spin out.

" _Mayday! Mayday! I can't control her, I can't-_ "

It spun down onto the flight deck and exploded in a ball of flame. Coulson winced and shielded himself from the heat.

"Get them out of here!" he shouted into his radar, " _Now!_ "

* * *

The squad of PURITY troops advanced up the corridor, firing on the SHIELD agents at the other end. With methodical precision, they quickly wiped out the guards and reached the door at the end.

"Is this the best SHIELD has?" scoffed the commanding officer, as his men prepared to burst through, " _Ridiculous_."

The soldiers forced the door open. The commander smirked, drew his pistol and stepped forward. His mind slowly regarded the massive green shape advancing towards him.

 _Wait._

"Close the door, _close the door!_ " he thundered, firing wildly at the advancing Hulk.

"Too late!"

The Hulk slammed into the officer with the force of an oncoming train, knocking both he and his squad over like bowling pins.

* * *

A rifle butt slammed into Ford's face. He looked up at his assailant, his head swimming.

"How does it feel, Herr Doctor?" asked the soldier smugly, "To know that you have lost. To know that everything you care about is being destroyed as we speak. What do you feel when you look up at me?"

"I...I see another typically imbecilic Nazi drone," growled Ford, "Whose too stupid to realise that my brother's already escaped his bonds and is about to slam him over the head with a chair."

" _Was?_ "

Stan slammed a wooden chair over his head, instantly knocking him out.

"They don't make 'em very smart, do they?" he said.

"They're Nazis, Stanley, what do you expect?" shrugged Ford.

He turned to Tambry, who was handcuffed to a lamp.

"Right, release Tambry and I and we'll get going."

* * *

PURITY's troops had broken through into the cafeteria and were now fully engaged with the defenders.

It was a scene of chaos. PURITY's heavy Ubersoldaten and Shock Troopers - the latter with their heat-ray firing Zerstäuber rifles - were engaged with SHIELD's own heavies, most notably Vision. The regular PURITY troops were fighting the other defenders.

Mabel and Dipper were in cover behind an upturned table - the former was throwing rotten fruit over the top towards the enemy as if they were grenades. Not far away, Wendy was in a fistfight with a PURITY officer.

She punched the unfortunate commander out and turned around, just in time to see a couple of soldiers charging Soos, whose back was turned.

"Soos!"

Soos turned around as they approached. He screamed and covered his face.

An elongated arm wrapped around his attackers and flung them into the wall. Kamala ran up to them, somewhat nonchalantly punching out half a squad of troopers with her other fist (expanded to massive size.)

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, dood, thanks for the save," nodded Soos, giving a thumbs up.

There was a loud bang as another half-squad of troopers entered through the leftmost door.

"There they are!" the squad leader yelled, "Fire! Fi-"

A series of webs stuck to the soldiers' guns and ripped them from their hands. Before they could react, two figures - one in red and blue, one in black and red - swung from the ceiling, slamming into most of the men and knocking them out. The squad leader whipped out his pistol and frantically fired on them - he missed his shots, and the red and blue figure swung back, grabbing him in a headlock.

Peter Parker threw the squad leader into a table, knocking him out, before swinging back and clinging to the wall next to Miles.

"Well, _that_ looked painful," he shrugged.

"Feeling bad about it?" asked Miles.

"Ah yeah, those poor Nazis," replied Peter wryly, "I mean, so much for the tolerant-"

" _Attention all crew in Sector C. Evacuation now in process. Head to the flight deck immediately._ "

"That's our cue," nodded Miles.

* * *

The medical wing on helicarrier was being hurriedly packed up. Steven and Connie stood by one of the beds - Sapphire's gem had been placed on the pillow.

"Come on, Sapphire, we need to go," said Connie, glancing anxiously at the evacuating staff.

"They're in the main hallway!" a SHIELD agent cried, "We have to _move!_ "

"Steven!" exclaimed Connie.

Steven swallowed, nodded and tucked Sapphire's gem in his pocket.

"Okay, I'm ready," he said.

There was a loud crash from outside, followed by sudden, terrible silence. Steven and Connie looked at each other and nodded.

"Together?"

"Together."

* * *

Amethyst lay on the side of the hallway, slumped against the wall. She could see Peridot trying to get to her feet as the PURITY troops approached. One of the Shock Troopers walked up to her, putting a boot on her stomach and aiming his rifle in her face.

"Goodnight, _degenerate_ ," he spat.

The medical wing door flew open. The troopers turned, aiming their weapons at the person emerging.

"Identify yourself! _Now!_ " bellowed the Shock Trooper.

Stevonnie narrowed their eyes.

"Leave. My _family. ALONE!_ "

They charged out of the doorway, shield drawn and reflecting fire from the troopers. They drew their sword and slammed the flat of it across the Shock Trooper's face, knocking him off Amethyst, before turning to his squad mates. They threw the shield - it swung through the air, knocking out three men, before returning to them. The last PURITY trooper advanced quietly behind them, aiming to take them by surprise - they turned quickly and roundhouse kicked him in the chest, knocking him down.

They turned to Amethyst, offering their hand.

"You alright?" they asked.

"Am now," nodded Amethyst, taking it as they pulled her up.

Peridot got to her feet, rubbing her head.

"Well, it was close," she said, "Good thing _I_ was here..."

Amethyst smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Alright, let's get the heck out of dodge," said Amethyst, "Looks like we're home free..."

* * *

"Just a few more yards and we're home free!" called Ford.

He, Stan and Tambry were running up the fire escape corridor to the roof of the building. Through the reinforced glass door at the end, they could see a helicopter - a few men in tailored suits were standing next to it, weapons drawn.

"What _is_ the Order of the Thirteen, anyway?" demanded Tambry.

"You know the Illuminati?" replied Stan, "It's like that, but mostly less evil."

" _Mostly?_ " said Ford.

"Don't kid yourself, Ford, it's still a secret society that manipulates people," said Stan.

A PURITY trooper burst out of one of the side corridors. Stan tackled straight into him, forcing him to the ground and punching him out.

"You're not getting _anything_ from us," he snarled.

Ford smiled. Things seemed to be looking up.

* * *

President Fulton looked up from the sheet of paper Wilder had given him.

"Who else have you given this offer?" he asked.

"Went down well in Moscow," shrugged Wilder.

Fulton nodded.

"So, I say yes to this, and PURITY will help strengthen my Presidency," he said.

"And you'll get the credit for all the... _changes_ that happen," nodded Wilder.

The President smiled.

"Secretary Wilder, your group drives a hard bargain," he said, "But I think we can do business."

He shook Wilder's hand.

* * *

Ford and Tambry raced through the door towards the helicopter. Stan was just a few steps behind.

Suddenly, the door swung closed again, and there was the sound of a lock closing shut. Half a second later, Stan slammed painfully into the reinforced glass.

"Argh!"

"Stan!" exclaimed Ford, skidding to a halt and turning around.

A figure emerged behind his brother, sarcastically clapping as he approached Stan.

"Oh, bravo gentlemen," sneered Rausseman, " _Bravo._ "

* * *

"Bandits coming in fast!" shouted the radar man, "We've just picked 'em up!"

"What are they?" demanded Hill.

"They're...aw crap, _heavy bombers!_ " the radar man replied, "B-2s!"

"Helm, evade! Evade!" bellowed Hill.

"Too late, missiles inbound!" shouted the radar man.

"Brace! _Brace!_ "

* * *

Stan turned to face Rausseman, crossing his arms.

"Let me guess how this goes," he snapped, "You're gonna take me prisoner. Probably beat me a bit as well. Then Sixer's gonna bust me out, we're gonna find you, we're gonna kick your ass and tear PURITY apart limb from limb. Because you guys are idiots, just like your moron Führer, and you never, _ever_ win. Am I right?"

Rausseman chuckled.

"Is that what you think?" he said, "That this is gonna be like some...1960s war movie? Is that it?"

He raised his gun and pointed it at Stan's head.

"No," he said, "I think we _both_ know how this ends. Kneel, if you please."

Stan narrowed his eyes.

"No," he spat, " _Never_. Not to _you._ "

Rausseman nodded.

"Very well."

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

Six missiles slammed into the starboard side of the helicarrier. The impact rocked the massive, flying warship - the engines spluttered, roared and slowly ground to a halt.

"Critical structural damage!" bellowed one of the bridge crew, "Both starboard engines are out! What do we do?"

Fury looked down at him, a solemn expression on his face.

"You know what you have to do," he replied.

"Yes sir," nodded the crewman, swallowing, "All hands, abandon ship! All hands, abandon ship!"

* * *

" _Stanley!_ "

Ford ran back, reaching the glass door and slamming his fist against it. Stan did not respond, his body slumping to the ground.

"Stan, come on, wake up, we have to go!" he shouted, " _Come on!_ Don't let him do this to us, Stanley! Don't...don't let him..."

Rausseman laughed, turning to the old man.

"In a strange way, it's actually satisfying to see that you've lived," he said, "Because I think that will end up hurting you _far_ more than simply killing you."

Ford turned to Rausseman, his face twisted with rage.

"I'll kill you," he snarled, "I swear, I'll _kill_ you..."

"You and whose army, Doctor Pines?" scoffed Rausseman, "SHIELD? The Avengers? The X-Men? The Inhumans? Your _family?_ All _dead_ , doctor, and their way of life is dying with them."

"Doctor Pines!" one of the Order agents called, "We have to leave!"

"Dipper and Mabel," snarled Ford, "I still have them."

"Last I heard, my men had spotted them aboard SHIELD's carrier," replied Rausseman, "Which is now crippled and burning somewhere over the Atlantic. You are _alone_ , Doctor Pines - you cannot win."

He breathed deeply and smiled.

"When the history of this day is written, Doctor Pines," he said, "We will be the ones holding the pen. You and your wretched brother will be remembered as aimless terrorists - and I as the hero who put them down."

His grin widened.

"It feels _so good_ , doctor," he said, "To be the one _inflicting_ the fear and pain."

"You're a monster," growled Ford.

"I'm a _visionary_ ," replied Rausseman, "Good day, Herr Doctor - we shan't meet again."

"No...no, you're not getting away with this! You're not!"

Ford felt himself dragged towards the helicopter by Tambry and the Order agents.

"Doctor Pines, we have to go!"

"Unhand me, damn it! Stan's still in there!" bellowed Ford, "We have to go back! _We have to go back!_ _STANLEY!_ "

* * *

The flight deck was aflame and fighters swarmed above.

Agents Baker and Willingham were directing people into a Quinjet. Dipper, Mabel, Wendy and Soos were bundled into the back - the last to enter before this particular jet was cleared to take off. They found themselves next to Jimmy, Stevonnie, Amethyst and Peridot - the latter was on the phone.

"...oh thank _stars_ I finally got you! You need to leave the barn, Lapis! ...I know it's our _home_ , but it's not _safe!_ Just...please, we'll meet up in Wakanda, just _go!_ ...I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

The Quinjet rattled as it took off, hurriedly soaring away from the carrier. It shook dreadfully as a missile thundered past it, but quickly built up speed and broke away from the fighting.

Stevonnie sighed, pulling out Sapphire's gem and staring at it.

"I wish you could tell me what's gonna happen next," they sighed, "I...I feel lost."

"We all do, man," nodded Wendy.

"Did any of you guys see Timmy anywhere?" asked Jimmy, "We got split up on the deck."

"Yeah, I saw him - he's lining up for the next Quinjet. He's safe," nodded Dipper.

"Hey, come on, let's not get so down in the dumps," said Mabel, smiling weakly, "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay..."

* * *

"Mayday, mayday, this is Quinjet Three-Five-Niner! I've lost the ailerons! I'm trying to put her down on water, but I don't...I don't know if I can do it!"

Timmy held on tightly to his seat as the Quinjet descended. He reached into his pocket, grabbing the recaller and frantically calling Dani. There was no answer - her own recaller was switched off.

He sighed, looking down at the pink and green buttons on his shirt.

"It's gonna be okay, guys," he said, as much to himself as Cosmo and Wanda, "It's gonna be okay..."

* * *

The last functional Quinjet was about to take off. Steve and Coulson stood on the loading ramp, fitting as many people into the back as they dared.

Kamala, Danny, Peter and Miles piled into the back, followed by Willingham and Baker.

"That's everyone, sir!" called Baker.

" _Coulson!_ "

Coulson held his hand to his earpiece as Fury radioed him.

"Director?"

" _Take Cap and get out of here!_ " ordered Fury.

"What about you, sir?" asked Coulson.

" _I have too many secrets, Coulson, and I'll be damned if I let PURITY have them,_ " replied Fury, " _It's on you now, Agent._ "

"I...yes, sir. Good luck, sir."

He looked over to Steve.

"We need to go," he said.

Steve swallowed and nodded.

* * *

President Fulton adjusted his tie as he walked into the Press Gallery. The assembled reporters immediately began to shout questions - Fulton raised a hand to stop them.

"Before we start, I'd like to address the people," he said.

He cleared his throat.

"My fellow Americans," he said, "Today is a day of tragedy. But it is also a day of reawakening."

* * *

" _Our country is sick and has been for some time. This administration has been working to fix the ills of our predecessor. Today, we make our first big steps towards a cure._ "

"...critical structural damage - the stern is coming away! She's going in, sir, _she's going in!_ "

Fury and Hill stood on the burning bridge of the helicarrier, the former looking as implacable as he always had.

"Sir?" asked Hill, somewhat nervously, "Are you..."

"Hill, I'm as confident in victory against PURITY as I was this morning," replied Fury.

He offered her the faintest hint of a smile.

"It's always darkest before the dawn," he said.

* * *

" _The first step is to re-evaluate our allies and our enemies. For too long, we have relied on vigilantism to protect our people. We have allowed these 'superheroes' to walk all over us. No more. Today, our tireless men and women in the armed forces have started to take our nation back._ "

Reed Richards coughed and spluttered as he crawled out of the rubble of the Baxter Building. He was immediately picked up by a fireman and escorted towards safety.

"Did..." Reed coughed, "Did anyone else..."

"You're the only one we've found so far, Mr. Richards," replied the fireman.

He looked towards the edge of the police cordon, where a policeman was arguing with an army officer.

"Word of advice - you might wanna skip town," said the fireman.

* * *

" _The world will be ours again. We will work with our friends in Europe, in Russia, in China. We will restore order and peace, whatever the cost may be._ "

A soldier held up his phone, recording the burning of the X-Mansion. A friend walked in front of him - he grinned and made the peace symbol before carrying on.

* * *

" _Victory is coming, my fellow Americans. For you. For me. For all real Americans, and all real humans. We will have peace. We will have dominion. We will have purity._ "

The Hulk wandered the lower decks of the burning helicarrier, roaring and pounding on walls as he searched for an exit.

Not far away, the Vision was flying away from the ruined ship. He looked back as he heard a sickening crunch. He watched as the ship slowly tore itself in half, like a twig being snapped. With a mournful groan, the burning fragments of the dying behemoth began to fall into the sea below. He could see the Hulk falling - from his position, the giant green monster looked to be unconscious.

The Vision shook his head sadly and flew away.

* * *

" _I trust you will all have the strength and fortitude to see this through._ "

Quinjet Three-Five-Niner lay in pieces in the Atlantic.

Barely conscious, Timmy clung to a piece of wreckage. He couldn't see anybody else from the unfortunate aircraft - at the moment, he could only really focus on his own survival.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw a winged figure extending a hand to him.

"A...angel?" asked Timmy, weakly.

"Trust me. I'm the farthest thing from that."

Lapis Lazuli took Timmy's hand and flew off into the sky.

" _Thank you._ "

* * *

A flight of battered Quinjets landed on a Wakandan airstrip. As they did, Wakandan troops and emergency responders immediately met them, grabbing the injured and taking them to medical attention.

Steve limped out of the last Quinjet, clutching his head. Coulson followed him, his suit dishevelled.

"What do we do now?" Steve asked.

"Resist."

The two men turned. Sapphire had emerged from the back of another Quinjet.

Before long, the small blue gem had a small crowd surrounding her. Stevonnie, the Pines Twins, Soos, Wendy, Danny, Jimmy, Kamala, Miles, Peter, Coulson and Steve - all were listening intently for what the seer had to say.

"They look invincible now," said Sapphire, "But their power is limited. They are weaker than you think."

* * *

" _Not only that - their recent victory is going to make them complacent._ "

"General Rausseman!"

Rausseman got up from Allsworthy's couch and nodded at the officer entering the penthouse.

"Word from the UN," said the officer, "There's been an official denouncement of the purge, sir. Signed by India, Britain, Germany, Japan, Australia, Wakanda..."

"The UN? Bah!" sniffed Rausseman, "Who on Earth cares?"

He sat down again, gazing out the window.

"Tell me when something important happens."

* * *

" _They think they've broken us. What they don't know is that_ we're _the only ones who can decide if we're broken._ "

Ford gazed, slack-jawed, at his fellow Order members. They were much reduced - Xavier and Black Bolt was gone (word was that the Inhumans were leaving Earth in disgust - Ford couldn't exactly blame them), Reed Richards looked like a broken shadow of himself, and the other members looked almost as tired and lost.

"Scorched Earth, Ford," sighed Reed, "We can't let Rausseman have the planet. A Nazi-run Earth is a cosmic threat."

"But...but we can fight him!" exclaimed Ford, "We can beat him! It's not impossible! It..."

"The Order has voted, Ford," said Reed.

"...well then I'll no longer be a part of it," spat Ford, "I'm not a _coward_ , Richards."

He turned and stormed out of the room.

* * *

" _And while it seems like we've lost a lot, we have more than you can imagine._ "

"He's waking up!"

He opened his eyes. He could see the blurry forms of Lapis and Timmy above him. He shook his head.

"What...what happened?" he muttered.

"Well, it's hard to explain," shrugged Timmy.

"You might have _died_ ," said Lapis.

Stan sat up, clutching his head.

"Yeah, I remember that," he nodded, "So why am I...what, undead?"

"Don't thank us, man," said Timmy, "Thank _her._ "

"Her?" quizzed Stan.

Lapis nodded.

"We call her... _Phoenix._ "

* * *

"The odds are against us. There are darker forces coming - even darker than Rausseman. But here's what we're gonna do."

Some of the crowd shuffled over to make way for a new arrival. Stevonnie and Amethyst immediately ran over to her - Pearl smiled as she hugged them back. Next to her, T'Challa and Tony took positions next to Steve.

"We train," said Sapphire, "We fight back. We bring back Ruby, we bring down Rausseman and we save the world. That's what is going to happen."

"Is that one hundred percent certain?" asked Coulson.

Sapphire smiled.

"No," she said, "It's not even fifty percent certain. But when has that ever stopped us?"

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Steve turned to T'Challa - neither of them had joined in the cheers, and both looked concerned.

"Did I hear that right?" asked Steve, "Stop Rausseman _then_ save the world?"

"Darker forces than Rausseman," repeated T'Challa, "I fear that something terrible is coming."

Steve swallowed.

"Well, let's focus on what we can deal with for now," he said, "Leave the rest for tomorrow."

Kamala walked over, looking at the sky.

"Problem, Kamala?" asked Steve.

"Not really," shrugged Kamala, "It just bugs me for some reason. It's not raining again..."

* * *

 _1945_

There was a running fire-fight in the alpine caves, sheltered from the rain outside.

The Private clutched his 'burp gun' as his squad raced through the darkness. They were in a race against time - the fascists had stowed a prize within these tunnels, and the Western Allies were fast approaching to take it. They had to reach it first.

"Comrades, through the door!" bellowed the major.

The Private swallowed as he charged through the door. He was met by two SS soldiers - they raised their guns, but the Private fired first, mowing them down in quick succession.

He breathed heavily and mopped his brow, turning to look at the object stored in the Nazi laboratory. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the object in front of him.

"Comrades...you're going to want to see this," he said.

In a large tank marked 'Department Seventeen', the Private beheld the strangest sight he had ever seen.

It was a man made out of silver.

* * *

Deep in the depths of space, a satellite from Earth - from the Order of the Thirteen - drifted through the void. It flashed a message - like Morse Code, but in a language that would not have been spoken on Earth.

In the dark void, two eyes opened, regarding the small object and the co-ordinates it was giving him - co-ordinates to a small planet called Earth.

Galactus slowly awoke from his slumber. It was time to feed.

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

I laughed heartily as I saved my document.

"Oh, I love it when I get to be _nasty!_ " I declared, "It's such _fun_ , you know?"

I stood up.

"Well, that's it for another year," I said, "It's been a real ride - I've had a lot of fun with the arc this year, and I think I've written some of my favourite one-offs this year. _Robot Wars_ and _The Trans-European Express_ , I'm looking at you."

I walked over to my CD player.

"Well, thanks again for indulging me for another October," I said, "It's the people who read and review this series that make this happen. You are, in fact, the best around. Thanks again, and I will see you for Number Eight next year!"

I pressed play.

"And now, some music!"

 _ALL: We didn't start October,  
It's some science thing,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

 _ALL: We didn't start October,  
It's some science thing,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

* * *

 _FINAL STATISTICS_

 _31 Chapters._

 _144 Pages._

 _1,265 Hits._

 _4 Faves._

 _4 Alerts._

 _45,429 Words._

 _216,823 Characters (without spaces)._

 _Approx. 100 Hours of Work._

 _One Exhausted Author - who is also kind of evil._

* * *

"Wait, Dib, wait...so, if you pause and then you double-jump, you can jump _forever?_ "

Dib, Timmy and friends were still in the creepy mansion playing video games.

"Yeah. It's...it's a thing that happens, yeah."

"But _why?_ "

"Because this game is _trash_ , Timmy."


End file.
